


Blood Gift

by Prometheas_Mother



Series: Blood Gift [1]
Category: Loki - Fandom
Genre: Angry Sex, Cunnilingus, F/M, Rimming
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-09-21
Updated: 2016-09-23
Packaged: 2018-08-16 13:01:39
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 5
Words: 45,254
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8103271
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Prometheas_Mother/pseuds/Prometheas_Mother
Summary: Blood and death and love and pain





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> For Denise

It was the middle of the night when the crash came. Charlie sat up in bed at the same time as her husband, Seamus. They both glared sightlessly in the dark.

“Home invasion?” Charlie snapped, wishing she had taken her survivalist father’s advice and kept a gun in the bedroom. But she and her family lived in one of the safest suburbs in California. There was no need for guns here. At least that was what she told herself every day.

“I’ve got it,” Seamus replied, jumping from the bed. He drew on a pair of basketball shorts and grabbed a bat that he left by the door. His inner city upbringing hadn’t been as easily left behind as her country life. The ‘burbs were just a small step from her husband’s inner-city roots while her country life seemed a million miles away.

“I’m going for Thea,” She whispered. Thea’s room was on the other side of the Jack-and-Jill bathroom from them. Her twin, Dominic, slept on the other side of the house. She could get to their daughter silently while Seamus evaluated the danger.

Seamus nodded in the near dark and went to open the door. Had Charlie known that was the last time she would see him alive, she would have kissed him. Told him that she loved him. But Seamus was strong and fear was riding high in her now. Seamus went for the outside door while Charlie slipped through the bathroom and headed for her three-year old daughter.

Charlie slipped into her daughter’s room. The girl was sleeping peacefully on her twin bed. Charlie snagged her, covers and all, and carefully pulled her over the side of the bed away from the door. Thankfully, Thea didn’t wake. She only snuffled and snuggled deeper into her mother’s arms as Charlie rolled her onto the floor with her. A careless investigator would find the room empty.

Charlie took smooth, deep breaths as they waited. She had to stay calm and soft. If her three year old daughter woke, all would be lost. Whoever had dared to break into their house in the middle of the night would know where they were at the slightest cry from the toddler. That must not happen.

Charlie jerked involuntarily as more crashing came from the living room. She could hear Seamus, but he didn’t sound like the man she knew. His voice was high-pitched and fearful. Warning the intruders off, but with a high shrill of panic to his voice. God, she wondered, what made a man from the inner-city panic? This wasn’t even his first home invasion from what she knew of his past. She expected deep, testosterone-laden threats from him. Not babbling.

More scuffling, the scream of their son, Dominic, sounding like he had been pulled from his bed by his mop of curly hair. Screams of “no” from Seamus cut off with a sudden gurgle. Charlie stiffened. That was not good. They had her son. Her husband sounded incapacitated if not dead. She gripped Thea closer to her. The girl was awake now.

“Mumma?” She whimpered.

“Shh,” Charlie hushed her frantically. “Stay quiet. Everything will be alright.”

The lie was put to her words when the door to her daughter’s bedroom flung wide, spilling in light from the main room. A huge shadow blotted out the light from the living room, casting it back in near darkness. Good, Charlie thought. They won’t be able to see. They will think the room empty.

She was wrong. The person at the door started sniffing as if he were a dog. Charlie tensed. This was weird beyond imagining. What home invader sniffed out their prey? There was no smell or sound of a dog. As the sniffing continued inside the room, Charlie held her breath and cupped her hand around her daughter’s mouth to keep her silent.  Hopefully Thea wouldn’t balk and scream at her mother’s ill handling of her. But it was quite likely that the willful toddler would scream in rage at the treatment.

For once Thea was still. But the Sniffer was not. He crept into the room. Charlie held herself perfectly still, willing Thea to do the same.

It was a futile tactic. Smell beat sight by a mile. Charlie tried to jerk away when the hand clamped around her ankle. It didn’t budge. She kicked with her other bare foot at the creature pulling on her. She connected solidly with what she thought was a face based on the guttural sound from her would-be captor. She kicked again, hard. But this time her foot was met with a punishing grip that she couldn’t shake. Charlie kicked wildly and uselessly as the entity drew her down the bedside, purposely leaving Thea behind. Whoever this was, they could have her, but they would never get hold of Thea.

Charlie may have left all her survivalis antecedents behind when she got her Ph.D. in classical mythology, but that didn’t mean she had forgotten all her lessons from her father. As she was being pulled, she sat up, clutched her hands together and whacked her attacker in the nose for all she was worth. He growled with a truly inhuman noise and let go. Charlie didn’t hesitate, she scrambled to her knees and slammed the invader again across the face. The pain of the blow flowed up her hands and into her elbows. It was like she had hit all bone, missing the nose entirely.

And then too many things happened at once. Thea screamed for Mumma, the attacker grabbed her arms, and another figure roared into the doorway. She didn’t understand the command, it sounded like mere growling, as she splayed on the floor. Her attacker was dragging her out of the bedroom while the new invader hopped across the bed to grab her child.

“No!” Charlie screamed, “No, no no!!!” She struggled against the man until they came into the light of the main room. What she saw in the light made her go still.

It wasn’t a man who held her captive.

 It was a blue, fanged monster out of every human’s nightmares. Horns, pointy chin, fangs. The hands holding her were cold, cold, cold. This was no man, but a demon. Charlie lost her ability to breathe for a moment. Her academic brain began running scenarios even without oxygen: cold, merciless demons who trekked in the human realm? How many were there? Whose mythology did they belong in? AND WHY WERE THEY IN HER HOME? She studied mythology, she didn’t traffic in it. She had done nothing to bring this on her family.

Her daughter’s screams brought her back to the present. One of the demons was carrying her daughter from the room, covers and all, looking uncomfortable and triumphant at the same time. Charlie’s vision snapped across the great room, taking snapshots of the scene as if she were removed from it while her brain churned. It was a survival skill she had learned to survive the chaos of her upbringing.

Five demons. Blue. The smallest at least eight feet tall. Dominic held by one, Thea by another. Red, red blood in contrast to the blue of the demons’ skin and the gold of the hardwood floor. Charlie followed the footprints through the blood to find her husband curled in an unnatural heap on the floor. Oh, no, Seamus! He lay still on the floor, baseball bat covered in red blood tossed by his crumpled head. She tried to lunge for him, but the demon holding her wrists kept her captive.

More grunting brought her back to the moment. The demon who seemed to be in charge was growling at the two holding the screaming children. Thea and Dominic were throwing fits at the manhandling they were experiencing. Charlie braced herself, fully expecting to hear the horrible ‘thunk’ of her children’s heads against the floor to quiet them for good. Instead there was grunting and snuffling between the demons. Charlie tried to follow the conversation and ignore the cold seeping through her wrists held at her back by the third demon.

The largest of the demons, over ten feet tall, pinned Charlie with its red eyes.

“Tell me how to make the children be quiet.” Charlie heard the growling and snapping at the same time that she understood the creature. She was stunned at the sudden turn.

“How can I understand you?” She asked, quivering in her captives arms. Blue, tall, cold, _understandable_ , this was narrowing the potential list of demons in her house considerably.

“Allspeak, stupid Midgardian,” The demon answered as if speaking to a child. The last pieces of the puzzle clicked into place. Charlie stared in open-mouthed horror at what she faced.

“You are Jotun?” She asked in a quavering voice. Jotun here? In ‘Midgard’? After hundreds of centuries, why?

“Yes, stupid hu-man,” The Frost Giant confirmed. “Now tell me how to make the children cease their wailing.”

“They need their mother,” Charlie replied quickly, forming the best plan she could out of the mere seconds she had. “And I am their mother. Give them to me and they will be quiet.”

It was a gamble. Charlie’s children were willful at the best of times. There was no guarantee that being in their mother’s arms would quiet their screaming. But the lead Jotun seemed willing to give her explanation a chance and nodded. Her twins were plopped unceremoniously into her arms. Thea and Dominic each latched their arms around her neck and quieted, staring up at the Jotun resentfully.

“You will come with us then,” The leader commanded. “We did not know they would be so young. You will care for them.”

Without further word, the Leader began to conjure before them. The words did not translate into Allspeak and Charlie didn’t care. She only cared about the warm press of her children’s bodies against her and that she had gotten away with the little white lie she had told. She and Seamus were the twin’s parents legally, to be sure, but they had been adopted. Thank the gods that the Jotun hadn’t probed further into the definition of “mother”. Biologically speaking, she failed the test spectacularly. But she and Seamus had raised the twins since they had been dropped off at a fire station when they were three weeks old. In truth, Charlie was the only mother these children had ever known.

A portal began to open before them, ripping through the fabric between the worlds. Charlie had little doubt as to where they were going. Jotun would only take them to Jotunheim willingly. The wall of her great room began to shimmer and a circle opened up before them, growing to the size of the smallest Jotun.

Charlie was prepared for the push and used the forward momentum to propel herself through the portal and keep her children safe. She stepped through the ring.

 

Hideous cold surrounded her. The landscape was bleak and barren. A desert of snow dunes and mountains lit by a harsh blue glare that made the world seem on the verge of eternal twilight. Charlie jumped to the side, Thea and Dominic clasped in her arms. The five Jotun jumped through the portal after her. For a moment, she had considered running. But the bleak open landscape and the proximity of her captors made that seem a futile tactic. She would escape these Frost Giants, and she would return her children to safety. But she would wait until there was a viable opportunity. Until then, let the Jotun think that she was biddable and mild. It would lower their guard and give her more leeway should an opportunity arise.

The Leader nailed her with his cold, red eyes.

“You are ‘mother’. You must keep the children alive. Fail, and you die.” He grunted at her.

Charlie stiffened her spine. Of course she would keep her children alive at the expense of her own life. Jotun had mothers too. Did their own race not value their off-spring? One of the lackeys, his left ear shriveled, grabbed her by the neck and pushed her to a sledge.

To Charlie’s horror, there were four more children in locked cages on the sledge. Two sets of human twins. All had the look of bi-racial ancestry as Charlie’s own children. One set looked to be almost two years old and the others looked less than a year. Each was alone in their cage with little to no swaddling. They were all in various stages of crying and slowly turning blue in the cold.

One Ear pushed her to the sledge, laughing.

“If any of them die, then you do to ‘mother’,” He hissed in Allspeak.

Charlie stared at the child-laden sledge in horror. Jotun were collecting human twins with no idea of how to care for them. They would all die within hours without proper care. And why were Jotun collecting children? She wondered frantically. She ran her thoughts through all she knew of Nordic mythology. There was no cannon that spoke of kidnapping human children. The Jotun were fantastically disinterested in those that were not Jotun or Asgardian. Why the sudden change after all these millennia?

“All of these children will die within the next few hours without proper care,” She announced, puffing her chest to sound like a warrior. “You know nothing of human children. Give me the freedom to care for them unfettered and in return I promise you that they will live.”

One of the others with an eye patch laughed.

“Give you the keys? Then you can free them.”

“If I can escape five Jotun warriors with six children in tow, then you are poor excuses for warriors,” Charlie hurled back. Nordic culture, she reminded herself, was patriarchal. Be strong, play on the need to be masculine.

Leader laughed at her insult and Charlie fractionally relaxed.

“The Midgardian is right, Froh,” He agreed. “Give her keys, give her blankets. These children are still of Midgard and are defenseless. Let her try to save them. Let her die to save them. We lose nothing.”

Charlie hitched in a shivering breath and ran to the sledge, Dominic and Thea bouncing on her hips. Her life now depended on the lives of six children, not just her two. They were babies, defenseless and stolen by Jotun. How could she _not_ help them?

Charlie set her own children, still wild-eyed, on the edge of the sledge. They were shivering, disturbingly quiet. They were in shock.

“Mumma’s got you,” She told them, hugging them close. “Everything will be okay.”

“Daddy?” Dominic asked. And it was then that Charlie realized that not only was her husband dead, but her small son had probably seen the act.

“Daddy is OK,” She insisted, looking them both in the eyes. “No matter what, Daddy is fine. We are here now, but we are going to get back to Daddy.”

Lie, lie, lie. But all she had. Charlie had to get these kids through the Jotun over and above anything else.

“But I saw…,”Dominic started.

“You saw Daddy take a bad fall. Daddy is fine,” Charlie insisted. “Now, there are babies here. We help babies, right?” Charlie cajoled the twins.

“Yes,” Thea answered emphatically, speaking for the first time since the ordeal began. “Help babies.” Charlie smiled and hugged her children. Thea had always had a soft spot for babies. Maybe it would rub off on Dominic temporarily.

A hard slam in the back pushed Charlie into her children. Froh had thrown what she presumed to be the keys at her. There was no help for it but to pick them up and start moving.

“Let’s get the babies warm,” Charlie intoned in the most cheerful voice she could muster. Dominic loved keys, so she sent him off to unlock the cages while she unwrapped Thea from her blankets.

“Good thing we have these,” She murmured. “You’re in charge of sharing them,” She commanded Thea.

Charlie looked up and surveyed the Jotun. Leader and Froh were watching her, but the other three had gone to make a perimeter. They may be in Jotunheim, Charlie surmised, but that didn’t mean they were safe. Otherwise there would be no need for patrols.

What in Hell was going on here? Charlie wondered, reality snapping back for a moment. Even though she had spent her life with her head down in Greek, Roman, and Norse mythology that had never meant she believed in it. Just like she had never believed her parents’ crazy insistence that the Military Industrial Complex was going to fall any day and they needed to be prepared to live an existence based on only what they could grow and hunt.

To truly be with Jotun in Jotunheim meant she was either having the most realistic dream of her life or she was having a psychotic break. But the cold she was feeling was all too biting and real, and she preferred the Greeks. Her psychotic break would feature Hecate and Hades, not some random Jotun. Or so she believed. Her reverie was interrupted by furs thrown in her face.

“Furs,” The Jotun said blandly and walked away. Charlie clutched them to her chest, luxuriating in the sudden warmth. She was freezing. Psychotic break or not, she had to deal with the situation.

Within fifteen minutes, Charlie and her family had rounded up the children and congregated them in two large cages. Each cage was lined with furs. Thea was with the babies and Dominic was with the children closer to his age. Charlie stuffed them into the two cages hopefully. This would conserve body heat in the frigid weather. She had fashioned a cloak for herself from the furs. Her head and face were covered, and a belt held the fur across her middle to cover her hips. Food was next. But did Jotun have any concept of food?

 

Loki approached the Jotun camp with an ambling gate. In his current form he was The Wanderer. An old man. This form was tedious. He had to negate most of his magic and nearly all of his physical power. Fortunately, he didn’t have to compromise his intellect. And he hated consorting with Jotun. His own past rose up when he dealt with them. Of course Laufey was his mother, but he found the whole Frost Giant hatred of other races nearly as tedious as he found Asgard’s insistence that they were superior to all.

But the Jotun were up to something. Odin had sensed it and sent him on this journey. And Odin, be he a pain in the ass, was never wrong. Jotun traveling to Midgard? Unheard of. Jotun traveling to Niflheim, inexcusable. The dark realm was dead and must remain so. Jotun were reported attempting both, so Loki had been dispatched to understand and, if needed, thwart the Jotun plans.

The Wanderer limped into the Jotun camp. It had changed since he had been there yester eve. Now the sledge was full with Midgardians in cages. Children all, apparently overseen by a female Midgardian huddled in furs. For a moment, Loki glimpsed a flash of soul light, quickly tamped down. The female had flashed in his godly sight for a moment, but then died. Interesting. Only those Midgardians of great power flashed soul light, but for Midgardians power was fleeting. He could have simply caught this female in one great act of sacrifice. He would never see her again. His godly gaze passed over the hunched figure near the cages. She was unremarkable.

“Wanderer,” Byrnjolf, the leader of the Jotun, boomed, as Loki approached the camp. “How goes the search?”

“Promising, promising, Brynjolf” Cackled the Wanderer in his old man’s voice. “I will draw you the map for tomorrow.  It brings us close, closer. Only those who wander are not lost.”

“Only those who bring us to Niflheim live,” Byrnjolf replied, moving quickly to cuff the Wanderer. To his confusion he somehow missed. He knew the Wanderer wasn’t mortal, but he shouldn’t be that fast.

“Tomorrow I will bring you to a stronghold. You can rest there. In the meantime I will continue to scout the trail to the gate.” The Wanderer informed them, and then he vanished.

 

Charlie eyed the apparent human when he appeared and then quickly ducked away behind the sledge to eavesdrop. Any being associating with the Jotun was no friend of hers. The exchange was short and unfriendly. Not enough for her to trust the old man, but enough to ensure her that he was no dear friend to the Frost Giants. She evaluated his usefulness in any escape plan and quickly dismissed him from her list of potential allies. Old, weak, working for the Jotun. There would be no help from that quarter.

Charlie shivered at the mention of Niflheim by the leader, Brynjolf. Nothing good ever came from that realm. Gods, that place was such a disaster that it only figured into Ragnarok as the place Hela left. The _Gylfaginning_ named the place as the seat of the four major rivers that filled the nine realms. It was ancient, cold, home to the dead, but the seat of creation as well. And this combination of Jotun, Niflheim, and human children sent a spurt of real fear through her that penetrated the cold shell of her shock. She was baffled as to why Jotun would be interested in human children in the context of Niflheim, but no good could come from it. She must protect the babes at all costs.

The similarities in the groups of children were too strong to be coincidence. She knew there must be a plan in the making. Three sets of non-identical, apparently biracial twins. Each set made up of a boy and a girl. Many mythologies featured the magic that came from joining the duality of the male and female, but none she knew of involved children. And her knowledge was considerable. Rites involving children usually involved sacrifice, and that sent another spurt of cold terror through Charlie. She had no idea of how they would escape or where they could go for safety, but she would have to figure it out soon or they would all lose their lives.

OK, Charlie told herself, wiping her suddenly sweaty palms against her fleece pajama bottoms, first see to it that the children would survive in this frigid wasteland, then plan the escape. She turned back to the overwhelming logistics of caring for six children in a hostile environment. Her hands shook as she reached in the cages and patted her babies’ heads.   These children had each come from somewhere. Their lack of a human caregiver let her know that either the Jotun hadn’t considered how to care for the young or that she was expendable as a caretaker. Probably both.

With warm children, the next need became apparent: food. Charlie approached the leader.

“Brynjolf, Midgardian children need food and water to survive,” She demanded, but punctuated her request with a deep bow. All of her classical training told her firm but respectful was the best way to get what she needed from a Frost Giant.

“Cnut, feed them!” The massive frost giant roared. One of the giants on patrol jumped and turned at the command. Charlie didn’t need to know much about Jotun body language to understand that Cnut thought this task beneath him. He resentfully tromped to a pile on the right side of the camp. He threw a tremendous pack carelessly toward Charlie and stomped back to his place on the perimeter. Charlie jumped out of the way to avoid being crushed.

Charlie eyed Cnut and Brynjolf speculatively. Brynjolf was obviously the leader, but he needed something from the frail old man that had vanished from camp, so he was beholden to a weakling. No Jotun would enjoy that. Cnut must be low giant on the totem pole to be called on to care for a woman and children. Was there anything she could exploit in the group dynamics here? She would have to keep watching and waiting to see what else she could learn.

Charlie tugged open the sack and spun away to gag what little was in her stomach onto the ice. The bag was rank with the smell of rotting offal. Was this what Jotun ate? It was disgusting and unsuitable for humans if that was the case. Taking a couple deep, determined breaths, Charlie swung back to the bag to see if there was anything that could possibly construed as edible in there. She rummaged through the sack and pulled two leather-like water skins from the bag. Everything else was a waste. She kicked the bag in frustration and turned to the skins. Maybe she would get lucky and at least one of them would contain something nutritional.

She opened the first and took a cautious sniff. It smelled beery and fermented, but not poisonous. She took a careful swallow. It tasted like some kind of thick stout that some craft brewer would tout as “Breakfast in a can!” She took a hefty swallow and set the skin aside. If her stomach tolerated it, then she would give some to the children. Gods knew, she didn’t want drunken children, but drunk was better than dead. Besides, the Egyptians had paid their slaves in wages of this kind and the Jews had made it out just fine. There were worse things. She shivered back an urge to vomit as she recalled the bags contents. Much worse things.

With the children snug and quiet for the moment, Charlie turned back to the camp. No fire burned to warm the Jotun, but that was unsurprising given that they were Frost Giants. She huddled deeper into her ersatz coat and slumped on the edge of the sledge in between the two sets of children. There was nothing for her to do but watch and hope that a way to escape presented itself.

The Jotun began congregating around a ring of stones as the twilight began to deepen towards night. Brynjolf held his hands over the stones and said something that didn’t translate into Allspeak. Sparks flew for a second and then the stones started to glow with a pale blue light that illuminated the camp. The perimeter guards were the last to join the group. Another bag of offal and several of the leather skins appeared and the Jotun began the truly ghastly act of feasting for the night. The smell of cloying rot was enough that Charlie had to clutch the cuff of her fur over her face while she stared in fascinated horror. Blood and bones and crunching, drooling, guffawing that made her stomach roil again.

Great, Charlie thought. Snorri Sturluson got to visit Odin in his great hall while being regaled with tales and riddles. Whereas her reward for years of diligent study of the ancient ways was to watch a morbid feast of ill-mannered beasts. Where was the justice?

“Ever fucked a Midgardian, Herg?” Froh asked One Ear.

“Ymir, no!” Growled Herg, spitting a hunk of cartilage into the dark. “Have you seen them? White or brown or black and so eerily warm. I’d rather fuck an Asgardian’s blue boot!” Charlie tensed and then relaxed as all of the giants started laughing in there snuffling, snorting fashion.

“That would be more to Kalf’s taste!” Laughed Brynjolf. One of the other Jotun, unremarkable so far, stiffened and growled.

“You ever catch that Asgardian maid you were after?” Brynjolf continued. “Or did you make do with just her slipper?” All of the Frost Giants were laughing now, some pointing at Kalf as blood and saliva ran from their fangs.

“She was bespelled, I told you,” Kalf grunted angrily. “Thought she was Jotun. Didn’t know she was one of gods damned Freya’s handmaidens.”

“Maybe the Midgardian female is bespelled too,” Laughed the last Jotun. He had been quiet until now, hadn’t even grunted as he had manhandled Charlie and her children through the portal to this gods-forsaken land. “Maybe she really is a Jotun. Go fuck her and find out.” He howled at his own wit, food dropping from his mouth as he guffawed.

“You go fuck her, Njal, if you’re so curious,” Kalf shot back, stiffening as if preparing for a fight. “Maybe she’ll turn into an ice princess for you. At least you could give us a good show.”

Charlie huddled further into her wrap as her role in the night’s entertainment was discussed. Jotun were indeed giants. The smallest of the troop was eight feet tall if he was an inch. If one of them decided that she was worth a good time, she doubted she would survive the experience. And then who would take care of her children and the babies?

“Go fuck yourself,” Njal shot back, and for a moment the circle was tense as if a challenge had been thrown. Either they were going to brawl or someone was going to step up and attempt the rape they were bantering about. Charlie nearly sent a prayer to Odin begging for a brawl, but thought better of calling out to the most powerful god in all of Norse mythology. Who knew what would happen if she drew Odin’s eye? Norse gods were not to be called upon for wishes like the Christian God was.

Brynjolf broke the tension by laughing uproariously. He slapped Njal in the back hard enough to pitch him forward a bit.

“Once we’re done here we will be such heroes that we can all fuck whoever we wish.” He announced, and the crew suddenly grew silent with anticipation. Charlie pricked her ears and listened carefully. Here was her chance to learn of the Jotun’s plans.

“What is our plan?” Froh asked into the silence. “Why do we need these Midgardian whelps? And that Wanderer. How does he know the way to Niflheim? Why are we going there?” Charlie held her breath along with the rest of the Jotun.

“Froh, you are like a brother to me, but I can’t share this yet,” Brynjolf replied. “Just trust me, this quest will ensure that our names live forever among the greatest of the Jotun. You all pledged yourself to me in this. I swear on Laufey that this will be the making of us all.” Froh subsided with a nod and went back to eating.

Charlie stared at Brynjolf as a new, deep hatred flared to life in her breast. It hit her so hard that her shoulders shook beneath the fur. This was all that bastard’s fault. Her husband’s callous murder, the destruction of her family. Brynjolf’s selfish, secret plans were responsible for all of this. The capture of these innocents, her servitude, her loss, could all be laid on his head. She would make him pay for that. She would destroy Brynjolf if it was the last thing she ever did.

 

Out in the deep cold of the night where he watched the unsuspecting Jotun, Loki felt his godly sight prickle for a moment. It had come from the camp, but in this weakened form he couldn’t tell which of the Jotun it had come from. But he did know one thing: someone in the camp had just sworn a deadly oath.

Interesting and more interesting, Loki pondered as he watched his disgusting lesser brethren devour their offal. Which of Brynjolf’s five followers had just vowed to see him dead? Knowing would be to his advantage when the time came to destroy the Jotun and their plan.

 

Charlie woke in the dark to the crying of a baby. A hungry cry, if she knew anything at all about babies. She jolted awake, still nestled between the two cages and did her best to see anything in the blue-black night. No stars or moon lit the realm and the cold light from the stones had long since been extinguished.

“Mumma, we hungry,” Thea whispered into the darkness to her right.

“I know, Sweetheart. Mumma’s coming.” Charlie felt no worse for having drunk the thick ale she had found in the skin. In fact, her long draught had left her feeling fortified. Perhaps it would be enough for the children too. She scurried quickly in the dark and brought the skin into the cage. She didn’t need to be a genius to know that waking the Jotun would bring wrath down upon her. She had to get the baby quieted quickly.

“I’m going to feed the baby first, Thea,” She whispered. Charlie maneuvered the nozzle of the skin into the crying baby’s mouth and was rewarded by instant silence. The baby suckled the nozzle as if it were a nipple, drawing the ale into its body. Charlie cringed as the baby drank its fill. There was definitely alcohol in the fermented beverage. How much was truly safe for the baby to drink? In a burst of panic, Charlie pulled the skin away from the baby before it could finish. She couldn’t risk the baby dying of alcohol poisoning. The baby hiccupped and started crying again.

“Thea, take this and drink. I’m going to hold the baby,” Charlie shoved the skin into Thea’s hands and swapped her for the baby. She tried to bounce the baby gently on her lap to sooth it, but to no avail. The poor thing was so small and light in her arms. How old could this baby be? Six months? A small nine? She was probably desperate for her own mother and hungry to boot. Where was Charlie to get food under these circumstances? Especially food for a baby? She could only give them a little ale without worrying that she would kill them in the dark. But she couldn’t have them waking the Jotun and risking all their lives either.

Ah, the answer was so easy. Well, maybe not easy, but obvious to one who had been raised by a pack of survivalists. Sources of nutrition under any circumstances had been drilled into her since she was a child. In the absence of any real food, there was always one source of nutrition to be had.

Blood.

Charlie pulled the Jotun keys from her pajama pocket and fingered them carefully. One had an extremely sharp edge, and she sighed in relief. Mangling herself would not help any of them, but this sharp edge could do the trick. Ideally, she would be able to see and make one vertical slice in her wrist. In the cloying darkness with the fear of the Jotun waking coating her like a smothering blanket, Charlie made the only choice she could. She pushed down and slashed the sharp edge in a rough horizontal motion across her wrist, hissing at the pain. Gods, but what was considered sharp for a key was dull and ragged as a knife. Nevertheless, she felt the trickle of warm blood on her cool skin. Before she lost her nerve, she pressed her ragged wrist to the baby’s mouth and hoped desperately that the babe would latch on.

Hope won out this one time and the child started chewing on her wrist. She felt a couple of baby teeth worrying against her skin and grimaced in pain and horror at what she was visiting upon this child. But there was no other choice. They only lived at the sufferance of the Jotun, and she was sure the Jotun would not tolerate the chaos of six wailing children.

“Mumma, tastes funny,” Thea complained too loudly in the dark.

“Hush now,” She said with more force than she would usually use. “Drink it and don’t give me any back talk. It is the only food we have.”

The baby in her arms was starting to soothe now, belly full of a combination of foul liquids. Charlie felt queasy just thinking about what she had just done. Oh, she would make Brynjolf pay for this. Her hatred flared hot in her breast.

“Full, Mumma,” Thea whispered contritely in the dark. Charlie wrapped her uninjured arm around her daughter.

“I’m sorry I snapped at you, Sweetie,” She apologized, kissing the fur covering the girl’s hair. “We are in grave danger here. It’s very important that you do whatever Mumma says from here on. No questions, no complaining. I love you.” She felt Thea nod against her shoulder. Tears pricked Charlie’s eyes. She was supposed to be giving her children a safe home, time to be children, a place of innocence. And instead she was feeding her daughter ale at night in a demon realm. Christ, could it get any worse?

They could all be dead, she reminded herself. That was worse.

Moving as firmly and softly as she could, Charlie repeated the entire procedure and then moved to Dominic’s cage to continue. Dominic ate anything and didn’t complain when the ale was plopped in his mouth. She fed the older siblings without waking them, letting them take just enough of the ale to keep them sleeping. Afterwards, she rubbed her ragged wrist in the cold snow to clean and sterilize it. She tore the hem off of her pajama top and fashioned a crude bandage before falling back to sleep.

 

“Herg, you’ve been replaced by a Midgardian!” The ear-shattering guffaw and a strong hand pulling Charlie from her seat on the sledge had her awake and stumbling to keep her feet.

“Shut up, Njal,” Herg shot back, his one good ear twitching with annoyance.

Charlie was muzzy with sleep and her wrist throbbed. She didn’t understand. How had Herg been replaced? Comprehension dawned as Njal began wrapping thick leather straps over her shoulders and around her waist. She looked back to see that the leads led to the sledge. Fear caused her heart to beat faster. She was to pull the sledge and keep up with ten foot Jotun? Were they crazy? There was no way she could equal the speed and strength of even Cnut, the smallest frost giant in the group. Nevertheless, she took a deep breath and fortified herself with the ale in the skin she had tied around her neck. At least she would have energy.

Dawn had come to the shadow world of Jotunheim. It was like an unusually cloudy, gray day on Earth. Midgard, Charlie corrected herself wryly. The snow reflected dirtily against the gray, looking grave and ominous. A low fog covered the ground. It was going to be a long trek.

“Where is your old man?” Froh growled at Brynjolf sharply. “The day is wasting. You said we could depend on him.” Brynjolf stiffened under the criticism, and Charlie twitched a smile from her lips. Dissention in the ranks. Maybe she could use it to her advantage.

“Your ‘old man’ is here,” Came a cackling laugh from out of the mist.

 

Loki limped into the Jotun camp, leaning heavily on his staff. He had purposely waited until the tension among the Frost Giants was at its height before making his appearance this morning. The more discord he sowed, the more mischief, the greater the chance that he would learn the truth through a slip of the tongue or a betrayal. Driving idiots to the breaking point was by far one of his favorite games. It was almost worth the amount of magic he had to give up to assume this temporary form.

He had been leading this band through Jotunheim for two weeks now. First he had led them on a wild goose chase to a portal to Midgard, stretching the ties that bound the group to the breaking by making them follow and wait. When he had deemed that there was no more to be learned by toying with them at that stage, he had opened the portals to Midgard as needed, curious to see what the Jotun were about.

He eyed the sledge carrying the Midgard children thoughtfully. He hated to admit that the Jotun had surprised him with their choices, but they had. Frost Giants were notoriously self-centered. He had expected them to return with some magical artifacts buried deep in remote areas of Midgard. It had never occurred to him that they would return with half a dozen children who would need care and succor. Especially since the warrior culture of the Frost Giants meant that none of these males had experience with babies. They must have hoped to get to Niflheim soon if they expected these children to live under these conditions. How unfortunate for them, then, that The Wanderer was their guide.

 The Midgardian woman still lived, he noticed, attached to the sledge like a dog. He was mildly impressed. Not many could have gotten all of those children through a cold night on Jotunheim. She must be resourceful indeed. Pulling the sledge would be hard for her. Fortunately for her, The Wanderer kept a slow, ambling pace designed to drive the Jotun mad.

“It will take at least two more days to get to the portal to Niflheim,” The Wanderer announced. “And a storm is brewing deep to the south. I have found a stronghold. We will travel there today and wait out the storm in safety.”

“I say we throw him on a sledge and drag him to the portal,” Froh offered with a leer. “Even that Midgardian female can pull a sledge faster than this old man can walk, I’d wager.”

“My magic doesn’t work that way,” Cackled the Wanderer. “I must be in contact with the ground to sense the portal. Every step is carefully attuned to the sensation of the portal. There is no rushing.” Loki smiled beatifically, enjoying the frustration he was causing in these warriors. It was almost as fun as baiting Thor.

“But we are just going to a stronghold,” Growled Njal. “We travel by sledge.”

Brynjolf’s head spun at the interruption. Loki could see that he was just realizing how tenuous his grip was on this group.

“Magical stronghold,” Loki countered with false solemnity. “A waystation for those traveling to the Dead Realm.”

“We leave now,” Brynjolf asserted himself into the conversation, shoving both Froh and Njal to the side and reestablishing his dominance. “Wanderer, lead on.” He commanded.

“As you wish. As you wish,” Loki bowed and began slowly tromping through the fog.

 

Charlie sighed in relief at the exchange. Surely she could keep up with an old man while she pulled the sledge. Granted, the big four-oh had taken a sudden and unwelcome toll on the inherent strength she had carried from a youth spent in hard labor. And of course she didn’t go to boot camp as often as she meant too, but she was still no weakling. Her makeshift fur boots skidded along the snow as she tried to pull the sledge, but after a few tries, Charlie found that she could dig her heels and toes in at just the right angle to get a grip on the snow-covered ice.

Well, here was boot camp times one hundred, she sighed sardonically to herself. Between the blood gift and the exercise, she was bound to quickly lose that thirty pounds that had been dogging her. Charlie almost laughed out loud. What she wouldn’t give to have being overweight her biggest problem like it had been yesterday morning. Right now she would take fat and happy in a cold minute, no pun intended. She focused her gaze on Brynjolf’s back and hardened her hatred and anger to muster her strength. She imagined running him over with the sledge, and that image kept her going throughout the day.

 

Loki felt the hatred flare again and looked over his shoulder. Damn the limitations of this form. He could feel the heat of the betrayer in his veins, but he couldn’t identify the source while in this body. If only he weren’t bound in this form until they reached Niflheim or Asgard…

 

The stronghold rose up like an iceberg in the distance. Charlie would never have known it was important if Njal hadn’t let out a bark of joy and started running for it. The others began to run too, but at the last moment, Brynjolf turned.

“Cnut, stay with the Midgardians,” He commanded. Cnut grunted and slowed his pace resentfully. The other Frost Giants took off, leaving Charlie alone with Cnut and the old man.

Charlie could see the dissension in the group as the day wore on, but this was her first opportunity to act on what she’d observed.

“Cnut, if you pull the sledge, you won’t be left behind.” She remarked softly. “The babies need to be fed. I will care for them while you run. You will not only save time, but no one will have to hear the children fuss either.”

Cnut turned his baleful red gaze towards her.

“You seek to befriend me, Midgardian?” He asked in a dangerous tone. His wrist flicked to the knife buried in the sheath at his side. All of the Jotun seemed to carry one.

“My kidnapper? My husband’s murderer? No, I don’t seek to befriend you,” Charlie flung back heatedly. “I seek resolution to a situation that leaves us both at a disadvantage. Nothing more.” She stopped in her stays and glared up at the Frost Giant. Would he kill her for impertinence, or would his desire to be with his troop lead him on a different path?

“Deal,” Cnut agreed after a long moment of contemplation. Gods, he must have a pea-brain to have to think so long about such an excellent offer, Charlie realized. But even idiots could have their uses. She just had to be cleverer than him to figure out how.

Once released from the stays, Charlie hopped onto the sledge where the children fidgeted and snuffled. It was probably for the best that the ale had left them all half-drunk, she surmised. It was like Jotunheim Benadryl. Keep the children semi-conscious and as quiet as possible, and they all might have a chance to survive this mess. Before she could remove the flask from her neck, she heard a plaintive call.

“What about me?” The Wanderer called as he shuffled through the snow. He looked despondent and tired, but Charlie had escape on her mind. And if one thing had been made clear today, it was that the Jotun hated this slow mortal. She would show him no sympathy either.

“Make your own deal, Old Man!” She called as Cnut braced himself against the stays and began running. The sledge began to pick up speed as she waved to the frail figure. “See you at the stronghold!” Cnut rewarded her with a rough guffaw, and Charlie knew she had taken one small step to making an ally among the Jotun.

 

Clever bitch! Loki marveled as he watched the sledge pull away with its cargo of Midgardians. He had ignored the Midgardian woman as insignificant since her arrival. But now, watching her pull away with a wolfish smile on her face, he vowed to pay more attention to her in the future. This woman was not the cowering nobody that he had reckoned. She may even be useful to his plan. He would not underestimate her again.

 

The storm the old man had promised arrived with unexpected fury within an hour of reaching the stronghold. Charlie was supremely grateful for the thick ice walls of the stronghold that buffered them from the screeching wind and heavy hail. Cold and dank the stronghold maybe, but it was protection from the elements.

With Cnut pulling the sledge they were only a few minutes behind the others when they arrived. Cnut grinned as if he was the cleverest Frost Giant that ever lived.

“Doing women’s work now, Cnut?” Njal laughed as Cnut slid the sledge through the door. “Maybe we should call you ‘Cunt’ instead!”

“Shut your mouth,” Froh snapped and pushed Njal hard. “That’s my brother you’re mocking.” Charlie raised her eyebrows at the revelation but kept silent and impassive. That at least explained how such a dimwit had ended up on a secret Jotun mission. And if Froh was actually protective of his brother, it could be ammunition for later.

But how much time did she really have? Tomorrow, assuming the storm broke, they moved on to Niflheim. Granted, the old man was left out in the storm, but she seriously doubted that he was as weak as he appeared. Otherwise the Jotun would have just beat the knowledge of the portal out of him. He was likely to show up tomorrow as fresh as a daisy.

For now, Charlie lay cuddled with her litter of children. The ale was almost gone from the first skin. She had cracked the second foolishly assuming she would have the same luck, but the smell had put her off. The thick, black liquid that poured out of the skin caused smoke to steam from the ice, and Charlie deemed it totally unsuitable for human consumption.

That left her with only one unpalatable option. Charlie sat up and examined her damaged wrist in the dim light of the blue globes that lit the stronghold. It hurt. And it was going to hurt more to reopen the wound. But what choice did she have? Dominic and Thea were sharing the last of the ale. There were four more children to feed and nothing but herself to take from. So far the babies had taken her blood eagerly, but she had no idea how the older children would react.

With a deep, quivering breath, Charlie cursed her cowardice and sliced her wrist back open ruthlessly. She bit her tongue against the pain as tears welled. Her survivalist parents would be so ashamed of her right now: crying over a wound that was made to give life. But she couldn’t help it. She had run from that crazy life, reveled in the normalcy that suburban life had given her. And now she suddenly found herself surviving only because of the childhood she hated. It galled her to no end.

Charlie refocused her thoughts as the youngest girl latched onto her wrist. Brynjolf would pay for this, she vowed. He would pay for all the pain and damage he had wrought on her and her family with his life.

“Mumma, what you doing?” Dominic asked as she slid the baby boy into her arms.

“Feeding him,” Charlie said tiredly. It had been a long day of physical labor and now she was directly draining her life into another’s. Thank goodness for that thirty pounds she had cursed for the last year. It might be her only saving grace.

“I’m hungry. Feed me too?” Dominic asked staring in fascination at her forearm. His longing broke Charlie’s heart. Her babies were starving and there was only so much she could do.

“Of course, my love,” She murmured. “Just wait for the babies to be done.” And she lay there and let them all suckle from her, feeling her soul drift away with her energy.

 

“Get up, Troublemaker!”

Charlie was literally pulled from the children by a hard, cold hand. Froh’s single red eye glared down at her as he pulled her into a standing position.

“Lock up the younglings and come with me,” He demanded. “I will teach you to have Cnut do women’s work.”

Charlie obeyed with alacrity. Froh looked pissed. And she had no desire to face off with a pissed Frost Giant. The kids wailed and cried as she stuffed them into the two cages, but Froh’s ruthless glare prevented her from giving comfort. Hatred soared in her heart as she locked her children and the babes behind the iron bars. She would kill Froh too, she vowed. She would kill them all, even hapless Cnut. They would all pay for what they had done to her family and these children.

Froh snatched the keys and pushed and shoved her through long hallways until Charlie was neatly turned around. She would be hard pressed to make it back to the children if she wanted to now in this maze. The final turn brought them to a wide room that was serving as the main hall for the Jotun.

“Cnut will not serve tonight. She will,” Froh announced, forcing Charlie to her knees with his hard shove. She stared up at the ring of massive, hungry, disgruntled Frost Giants and said the first obsequious thing that came to mind.

“How may I be of service, my Jotun Lords?” She choked around the lump of bile in her throat. What she really wanted to do was tell them all to go to Hell, but that would only result in her death at Froh’s twitching hands. For now all she could do was obey and watch and wait for opportunity. She hoped it came soon. Time was running out. Even now she could hear the storm lessening around the stronghold. They may make it to Niflheim tomorrow if that old man returned to guide them.

“Bring food and ale!” Brynjolf commanded flinging one long muscled arm towards the stack of provisions piled at one side of the room. “And be quick about it.”

“Yes, My Lord Leader,” Charlie said with a quick bow. Froh had started this game, but he couldn’t be allowed to remain in control of it. He was too angry to be predictable. Stroking Brynjolf’s ego seemed a much safer tactic.

Charlie ran to the pile and began sorting through the sacks. Finally she came upon one that had the telltale softness that indicated the Jotun’s disgusting food. She hefted the ties over one shoulder and slowly dragged the bag to the middle of the room. It was so heavy that it took all of her strength. Once she had the bag in the middle of the Frost Giants she untied the sack and threw it open.

“Forgive my ignorance, Lord Brynjolf,” She said subserviently. “What is the choicest piece in this feast and to whom should I serve it?”

“Serve me,” Froh insisted at the same time Brynjolf said “Give me the brain.”

Open dissension in the ranks. Was this her chance for escape? Charlie wondered. Could she turn them on each other? She could clearly see that this group was falling apart. Brynjolf using secrets to force this group to his bidding. Froh questioning his authority and looking out for his brother, Cnut. Njal taking every chance he could to stir the pot with insults. Kalf and Herg still loyal, but subject to teasing that was just on the edge of insult. Could she use these things against them to stir them into a fight? And could she take advantage of such an altercation to win her freedom and the children’s?

She flashed back to Bilbo and the trolls, how he had kept them arguing all night until they turned to stone. She was no Tolkien and this was definitely not Middle Earth, but still it was worth a try. She had studied the tricksters and ne’er-do-wells throughout all of mythology. Mercury, Pan, Loki, Coyote. They had always been her favorites. Her thesis had featured a study of the role of the trickster as balance to the ideals of the traditional gods. This was her best, and maybe only, chance. If she could goad these massive giants into fighting each other, she might be able to pick off the injured and eventually kill them all.

For the first time in her life, Charlie uttered a prayer. As she was in Jotunheim, she chose her god accordingly. _Loki, I hope I have studied your past and your escapades well enough that I can do you proud this night._

Charlie reached into the sack and pulled the soggy brain from the other offal. She hoped it was boar or cow and not that of some hapless Midgardian. She stood still for a moment and pretended like she didn’t know where to go.

“Bring it to me,” Brynjolf commanded. “Froh may have the heart as is his right as second in command.” Charlie hastened to obey. After deferentially handing the brain to Brynjolf, she fished a massive heart from the sack and approached Froh with care.

She bowed low over Froh and whispered:

“Your leader does not respect you. He makes you follow a weak old man and does not tell you why.” Before he could respond she spun and rushed back to the sack.

“Who is next, My Leader?” Charlie asked in the most humble voice she could manage. Let Froh think on the word ‘leader’ for a bit.

“Njal,” Brynjolf leaned back in satisfaction at having his ego stroked so. “Give him the liver.”

Charlie hurried to obey. There was no need to bait Njal. He seemed quite capable of stirring trouble on his own.

“Herg next,” Brynjolf commanded. “Pancreas.” OK, identifying a pancreas was a bit of a challenge. Charlie finally settled on a pinkish secretory-like organ and hoped she was correct.

She bowed low before Herg and whispered:

“Is it your ear that puts you below Njal?” She let her gaze linger for just a moment on the deformed ear before rushing back to Brynjolf.

“Kalf shall have the lungs,” Was the next command.

Charlie bowed over Kalf. “Does he give you lungs so your sense of smell will improve and you’ll avoid Asgardians?” She asked innocently as she placed the bloody lungs in his hand.

“Last but not least,” Guffawed Brynjolf, putting the lie to his words. “Give Cnut the intestines.”

Gods, could this egomaniac make this any easier for her? Charlie wondered as she bowed long and low before Cnut. He had helped her, but by doing a woman’s work. Her obeisance to him was all that was required to remind the room.

“You dishonor Cnut!” Froh exploded, dropping the heart to the ground. “Why make him last among us?”

“Because he does woman’s work,” Njal guffawed as he took a hearty bite of his liver.

Charlie slunk away to the side of the room, out of reach of the Frost Giants, and hopefully out of notice.

“I think the Midgardian children are a prize. Is protecting our prize woman’s work, Brynjolf?” Froh spat heart blood through his teeth in Brynjolf’s direction.

“The Midgardians are… necessary,” Brynjolf hedged.

“Why? How will we use them?” Froh demanded. “Quit treating us like children and tell us.”

“Speak to me like that again and I will cut your balls off!” Brynjolf threatened darkly, growling and squishing the brain between his fingers.

“Do not threaten my brother!” Cnut jumped and threw his entrails at Brynjolf. They landed wetly on Brynjolf’s head and neck, hanging like a gory necklace.

“Cunt, you couldn’t even kill a female!” Njal laughed heartily. “You’re only here because of Froh.”

“I can kill you easily enough,” Cnut roared, unsheathing his knife and diving for Njal. Njal and Cnut went tumbling strait into Herg who growled viciously.

“I’ve had enough of you myself, Njal,” Herg roared and drew his own knife. Suddenly there was a ball of three Jotun fighting and rolling in the middle.

Cnut, Njal, and Herg rolled through the room, biting and scrapping and stabbing. Charlie was shocked to see bolts of magic enter the fray and a knife went spinning to the other side of the room. Dammit! Why couldn’t it have landed closer? Charlie fumed and began trying to edge as inconspicuously as possible toward the knife. It felt a long, long way from her vantage point. And what could she possibly do with it anyway? Any of the Jotun could kill her with a careless strike. No knife needed. But she needed a weapon just in case.

“No magic on my brother!” Froh roared and jumped into the fray. His knife flashed in the blue light and the quartet spun out of control, knocking into the laughing Kalf and Brynjolf. Chaos ensued. All six Jotun were in the fray now, alliances dissolving as it became a free for all. The only consistent component was Froh protecting Cnut from the others. Cnut was weaponless, but it didn’t stop him from biting and snarling at his attackers.

Charlie ran a few quick steps closer to the knife counting on the battle to be enough of a distraction. If she could just reach the long knife, maybe she could turn the fight from a fray and into a real life or death battle. She inched closer. A chair went flying into the air and crashed between her and the knife. She froze, afraid one of the Jotun would notice her. After a heart pounding moment if became clear that she was being safely ignored by the others.

But that did not mean the battle was going in her favor. The Frost Giants were pissed, but not infuriated. They were still pulling their punches despite the use of magic (which must be some code of honor among Jotun) and no one was being seriously injured.

That just would not do.

Charlie clasped her hand over the knife hilt.

Knife it might be to a Jotun, but for her it was nearly a short sword, the blade extending a full twelve inches from the hilt. She looked up to see where she could do the most damage.

And of course it was to poor Cnut who was snarling and pulling at Brynjolf’s leg, trying to sink his teeth into his calf. He was sprawled on his abdomen, his feet braced against the floor for leverage as he tried to grab the Frost Giant leader.

It was risky, but if she didn’t find a way to escalate this battle soon, it would be over and she would be nursemaid as well as servant. She would lose her chance to escape. Charlie ducked in and sliced quickly at the back of Cnut’s knees, cutting through tendons and ligaments as if they were butter. She ducked back behind the broken chair, hoping her strike would go unnoticed.

Cnut howled and lost his footing as his legs gave out. Kalf had been about to swing for Cnut’s shoulder, but Cnut’s sudden jerk put  the back of his neck directly in line with Kalf’s blow. Blue blood spurted in an arc to the ceiling as Kalf’s knife landed just beneath Cnut’s skull.

“Bastard!” Froh screamed and dived at Kalf. He would have struck a killing blow across his throat, but Herg was there to counter the blow. Instead, Froh’s blade ended up buried in Kalf’s face. It continued through and Froh was finishing the stroke into air. Kalf stumbled away from the fighting circle, bright blue blood spurting from his cheek. Charlie didn’t miss a beat. She ran to him.

“Let me help you,” She begged with all of the false sympathy she could muster. He turned to her and Charlie slit him across the throat. Damn, but these knives were no joke. Kalf stumbled and fell, clutching his face and neck as his life blood pumped out of him. Charlie had never thought to use all of the knife fighting techniques taught to all of the children in the survivalist camp, but suddenly they were coming in handy. Her blood pumped with excitement. She could do this! Two down.

That left four tussling in the middle of the room. She doubted any of them knew what they were even fighting about now. They were focused on revenge from the latest jab, the last strike. The smell of blood and bloodlust filled the room. Charlie studied the fighting quartet. To her horror the battle was slowing. With two combatants missing, the fighting was becoming more calculated, the Frost Giants eyeing one another cautiously. This was unacceptable. One moment too many of peace and the fight could stop all together.

“Herg!” She shouted desperately. “Save yourself for me! Njal promised me that you would take me later! He said that you marry anything you fuck! And that you fuck anything!”

“What the –,” Herg turned his head in horror at the insult. “I would never… Njal!” He roared and dove at his comrade. Njal was too stupid to deny the accusation.

“You do! You will!” Njal laughed, ducking out of the way of Herg’s attack.

Aw, hell. Herg was a shitty fighter, Charlie realized. Njal was going to make mincemeat out of him. But for her plan to work the Jotun had to kill each other. She couldn’t do it on her own. Herg went flying out of the circle and landed near her. She pressed Cnut’s blade into his empty hand.

“Kill him for your honor!” She roared, pushing him back into the circle with two knives. There, that should help. She hoped.

And it did. Herg was better with two than with one and he had Njal dancing in no time growling about defending his honor and not taking any more of Njal’s insults.

Charlie turned her attention to Froh and Brynjolf. Those two needed no encouragement. This was a fight for dominance that had been brewing for a long time. Now that it had begun, there was no stopping it. And the opponents appeared to be equally matched, trading blows and slices as they hurled insults at one another.

Charlie realized she was weaponless and jerked her gaze around the room. Kalf’s knife had spun within ten feet of her, and she breathed a sigh of relief as she snapped it up.  To the victor went the spoils, the saying went. In this case, Charlie intended to be the ultimate victor. These were death matches now. Whoever won these two brawls would be weak and seriously injured. She intended to take them out before they could enjoy their win.

Herg buried one of his knives deep in Njal’s shoulder. Njal shook it off but kept fighting. Charlie looked on in horror until she realized that Njal couldn’t use his left arm. He was slashing with his right, but protecting his injured side. Herg saw his chance for victory and made a run for Njal. He ended up impaled in the stomach on Njal’s blade, but not before Herg landed a crushing blow to Njal’s skull. Both Frost Giants went down in a booming crash to the floor, leaving only Froh and Brynjolf standing.

“Selfish Bastard!” Froh was screaming.

“Soft!” Brynjolf screamed back. “Protecting that lack wit of a brother.”

“You’re soft! Beholden to some old wizard who leads us around in circles!”

And they clashed again.

This time there was no going back. Magic flashed between the two Jotun in sparks and waves of blue as they struggled. Charlie wasn’t sure what the exact effect of the magic was supposed to be, but both Jotun were growing paler by the second. Each clutched the other’s knife hand with his free one. They were chest to chest. Panting, ugly monsters trying to kill each other with forces Charlie didn’t even understand, much less had believed in less than twenty four hours ago.

The magic broke with a sonic boom, flinging both combatants across the dank room.

Charlie stood in shock for a moment, taking in the chaos she had wrought.

 But the shock lasted only a moment. Every bad horror flick she had ever seen came rushing up to her mind’s eye. How many times had the heroine stood over the killer’s body, dropping her weapon because she thought the villain was dead? And every freaking time the bastard came back to life and killed her. That would not be her fate.

She approached the remains of the battle with knife in hand. Herg and Njal were closest. She went up to each and slit their throats with her terrifyingly sharp Jotun blade. Njal didn’t move, but a spurt of bright blue blood put an end to Herg. She hurried to Froh, unsure what the magic had done to him. He lay cold and unmoving, but she slit his throat anyway. Nothing happened.

Finally, she stood over Brynjolf. The mastermind behind this whole scheme. Her husband’s murderer, the kidnapper of her children. He was breathing shallowly, but he seemed unable to move. Charlie straddled the Frost Giant’s abdomen and looked into his eyes. Knowledge was there. He was aware.

“This is for my husband,” She growled and plunged the knife deep into his chest where a human heart would be. “And this is for my children.” She stabbed him viciously two more times. “And for the babes.” Her knife buried in his chest in four rapid thrusts, both hands wrapped around the hilt. Each thrust was driven by her fury. And every time the knife plunged into the Frost Giant some part of her howled with primeval joy.

“And this is for me,” She growled, dragging the blade across Brynjolf’s throat in the most satisfying act she had ever committed. She was free.

 

Loki awoke in his cocoon, protected from the storm. Someone had just called his name.  In a benediction.

No one called Loki’s name in their time of need. Ever.

Anyone would be a fool to call on the Father of Lies for help.

Loki examined the cry more carefully. He may be stuck in this mortal form until he was back in Asgard, but some parts of his godliness were irrevocable no matter what form he took. He recalled the prayer and smiled.

No. Whoever had called out to him had been smart enough not to request anything of him. Asking a favor of the God of Lies was foolish even for a mortal. No, this person had praised him, and he had missed it with the delay caused by his mortal form. He summoned the exact plea:

_Loki, I hope I have studied your past and your escapades well enough that I can do you proud this night._

An admirer then. He had had his share of those over the millennia. Usually thieves, extortionists, professional liars. He could always feel their disloyalty and selfishness in their pleas. But this one was different. Clear, clean, shining with purpose. No taint of a life spent in lies and mischief. How odd.

And it came from close by.

That was the truly disturbing part. The only beings near him were the Jotun and the Midgardians. He had spent nearly the last of his magic in this form to protect himself from the storm. He was in the lea of the stronghold, his magical lean-to protecting him from the hail and wind. What in the name of Hel was going on in there? He wondered.

Even with his limited access to his power, he could push through the ice and stone of the stronghold easily. Loki slipped between the molecular cracks in the solid wall until he found himself in a corridor.

The corridor wreaked with the smell of Jotun blood. Loki followed his nose, his curiosity piqued. He knew he had weakened the bonds holding the Frost Giants together, but he had been sure they would hold together until he found out the truth of their plans. From the smell, there had been a wholesale slaughter here. He doubted any Jotun lived within these walls.

That, combined with the prayer, had him rushing through the halls. His old man’s frail body would only limp so fast, but with his nose leading him he came to the scene of the deaths in no time.

He turned the corner and was momentarily blinded by the unexpected flash of soul light. A Midgardian soul pulsed white and gold and green in his sight, blotting out the horror that he knew was strewn about the room. He drew a deep breath and pushed through the momentary annoyance. Had he been in his true form, the soul light would have blended seamlessly with the mortal it enveloped, giving him the true measure of the being. In his current form he could only see one or the other.

Loki blinked.

And opened his eyes to six Jotun corpses strewn about the room. Five were disinteresting, but the sixth was being straddled by a chubby Midgardian woman who was just finishing a slash across the body’s throat.

Sweet Freya, it was the Midgardian female from the camp. The one he had felt a pulse of soul light from last night. The weak woman he had chosen to ignore. More fool him. She held a bloodied Jotun knife in her hand, an expression of such hatred on her face he suddenly knew who had taken the oath to kill Brynjolf. It had not been one of the Jotun as he had suspected. It had been her.

He must have made a sound as he entered because she looked up at him with cold, hard eyes. She stood carefully and made her way to him through the destruction. The gore-covered knife was still in her hand.

“Your employers are dead,” She announced coldly. “I am your employer now.”

Loki was taken aback by the self-assured stance she took in front of him. Even the Jotun had shown him more respect. They feared his wizardly powers. But not this Midgardian. He smiled inwardly. He liked this female.

“And if you can’t pay my fee?” He asked nonchalantly. Oh, this woman was fun! He took in her blood covered furs and her powerful stance. No doubt she was the one who had called to him. And no doubt that he wished he had been here to see the havoc she unleashed. Damn this mortal form and its limitations.

“I now own all the Jotun had to pay you with.” She countered easily. “Surely what they have buried in their belongings includes the payment you were due.”

“They were paying me to go to Niflheim. Is that where you want to go?” He asked curiously. Of course, he would never have taken the Jotun to Niflheim had he even the ability in this form. There was only one place he could go in this form and the portal lay days away.

“Hell no,” She shivered visibly. “I want to go home. To Midgard.” She amended. “Take the children and me there and you can have all that the Jotun have left behind.”

“I can’t take you to Midgard,” He admitted, wondering what this mortal would do. He was mildly surprised when the knife blade was suddenly pressed against his neck.

“Then you can die,” She threatened. The sharp blade pressed against the paper thin skin of his mortal neck and Loki sighed in pleasure. This one, oh This One, was worth the trouble.

“And leave you forever stranded in Jotunheim?” He countered smoothly. He saw the frown form between her eyebrows.

“You have a counter proposal?” She asked, studying him intently. The knife didn’t leave his neck, but it eased fractionally.

“I can take you to Asgard,” He offered. “From there you can travel to Midgard.”

“Asgard is warmer than Jotunheim, no?” She asked carefully. With the knife still pressed close Loki nodded cautiously. Truth be told, he was enjoying this game of power with the mortal. Who would dare to stand up to the God of Mischief if they knew it was him they were dealing with? The bite of the Jotun blade in her hand excited even his decrepit form. He smiled.

“And they have food that humans, er, Midgardians can eat?” She asked warily.

“And even portals to your home,” Loki confirmed. He was almost disappointed when she pulled the blade from his neck.

“How long will it take us to get there?” She asked. “Directly, no circuitous detours, no lies.”

Ah, she almost had his heart with that addendum.

“Three of four days depending on how fast you can travel.”

“I am bringing all of the children. I will be pulling them on the sledge.”

“Five days,” Loki amended his timeline. “Unless you can run with that sledge.”

“Not for any length of time, no.” She frowned. “How do I know I can trust you?”

“You don’t.” He smiled toothily at her. “But I don’t think you have a choice.”

“Neither do you,” She said in a hard voice, grasping his fragile wrist in her tight grip. “Either we both stay in Jotunheim, which I don’t think you want to do, or else we all travel to Asgard. It is that simple, Old Man.”

“You would imprison me?” It took all of Loki’s mastery not to crow in delight at the idea. Gods, this mortal was priceless. Deadly, clever, ruthless. He felt his heart melt.

“I would rather not,” The mortal admitted candidly. “But all I can take in exchange is your oath. Is that even worth anything?” She demanded.

“More than you know,” He riposted. An oath from a god, even the God of Lies, was not easily broken. He would be bound by it.

“Then swear to me that in five days you will have me and the six children I have with me safely in Asgard and delivered to a place where we can find succor and aid in our journey home.”

“You are incredibly specific,” He countered. Oh, he loved anyone who could make him swear an oath that left him no room to wiggle.

“Take the oath or not.” She replied, unmoved.

“I swear,” Loki nodded, “Now release me.” He glared down at her hard grasp on his wrist.

“No. Not until you swear the full oath.” She countered. Loki grinned wolfishly. She had him again. Oh, with some work he could work around this oath. He just wasn’t sure that he wanted to.

“I swear that within five days I will deliver you and the six children safely to a place in Asgard where you can find succor and aid in your journey home.” Loki felt the weight of the oath surround him in that moment. He was bound now.

“Good,” She let go of his hand. “Now go through that pile and see if you can find anything edible for a hu-, Midgardian.” She corrected herself.

“No,” Loki cackled. “That was not part of our oath.” The woman’s hazel eyes snapped fire for a moment, but then she relaxed and smiled coldly.

“Neither was payment for your services,” She spat triumphantly as the smile fell from his face. “If there’s anything you want in that mess, I suggest you find it now.” With that she turned and started rummaging through the clothes of one of the corpses.

 

 


	2. Chapter 2

Bloody annoying, selfish, difficult old man. Charlie cursed as she searched Froh for the keys to the children’s cages. Of course he would not aid her in preparing the children and hauling them through the ice and snow. She had forgotten to include that in the terms of the oath. He would only lead them to aid in Asgard. He would not aid her now, if ever. Damn the man, forcing her into creating binding oaths when she was tired and overwrought and still filled with bloodlust. Oaths were a tricky business. She would have preferred to have time to reflect on each word of the promise she had made that old buzzard swear. Craft each word so there was no way he could slip out of her grasp. Instead she had been forced to hastily cobble together the most binding oath she could think of in mere seconds.

At least she had gotten out of paying the old bastard, she reflected with a satisfied smile. That much had gone her way. He had sworn before he had even realized he had foregone payment for his services.

Aha! The keys! She snagged them triumphantly and went off in search of the children. She wanted to get that sledge to the exit before her adrenaline ran out. And then she was going to have to search the putrid pile of Jotun belongings to see if there was anything else warm or edible that could aid them. Even another flask of the ale would do.

The corridors were tricky and she had to backtrack twice before the crying of the children came to her. She followed the heart wrenching sounds until she came to the sledge. Thea and Dominic were wailing along with the babies, fear and loneliness foremost in their voices.

“I’m here! Mumma’s here!” She called as she ran into the room. The soft blue glow emanating from the walls threw the pathetic piles of children into stark relief. The crying didn’t stop. Charlie fumbled with the keys until she managed to open both cages. She was tackled by Thea and Dominic and she clasped them to her in a tight hug.

“I’m here. I’ve got you. We’re going to be okay now,” She soothed and stroked her children rocking them in her arms. Gods, but she loved these children. Biology could not have made them more her own. She was their mother, heart and soul. She took comfort in the warm little bodies and knew that her ordeal in the main room had been worth every bloody, terrifying second. She had saved them. Now all that was left to do was get them to Asgard. She only hoped she could trust that wily old bastard to get them there.

It took a long time to calm the children and maneuver the sledge through the icy corridors. When she arrived at the edge of the main room, she pulled up short. Charlie gasped at the horror of the room. She couldn’t let her children see the mess her scheming had created. It would scar them for life. She halted the sledge at the edge of corridor so they couldn’t see the carnage.

She found the old man sitting comfortably in one of the only remaining chairs, nonchalantly smoking a pipe. As promised, he had done nothing to sort the Jotun’s left over belongings. Cursing his lazy ass, Charlie turned to the children.

“Dominic, Thea, Mumma has to leave you for a moment to gather supplies. I will be right over there. You can see me through the bars. Stay calm. I will be right back.” Her good, good children nodded and sniffled bravely.

Her pillaging of the Jotun’s supplies was tedious and only half successful. She turned up furs that would help keep the children warm and cloths that could be used as diapers. The children had been living in their own filth for two days now. She could finally do something about that. There was some sort of decorative Jotun short cloak, trimmed with ermine and glittering with jewels. It would come to floor on Charlie, but at least it would keep her warm. She pulled it on right there and kept on rummaging. Gold rings and necklaces went into a hasty pile. Who knew who she might have to bribe in order to get them all home? This was as good a payment as she would be able to manage. She had nothing of value.

Food was the real problem. She found three more of the ale flasks, but nothing edible. Not even a hunk of wormy bread. Apparently the Jotun were strict carnivores. And the meat that was left was hard and cold and looked half-rotten. Was she staring at the equivalent of Frost Giant energy bars? She wondered, and then swallowed back a gag at the thought of trying to eat the putrid flesh. She couldn’t afford to get sick, not when these children depended on her. She would have to continue as she had been: blood and ale and hope that the combination wouldn’t weaken her so much that she couldn’t pull the sledge.

After cleaning, rewrapping, and feeding the children, she turned back to the old man. He looked bored and disinterested. What a selfish ass, she swore. How could he sit there and watch her care for helpless children and not lift a finger?

“We’re ready.” Charlie turned to the man. “When can we leave? We have a long way to go if what you said was true.”

 

Loki creaked to his feet with the help of his staff. He had watched the woman’s careful preparations with an apparently disinterested eye, but in truth he had been studying her closely. Who was this Midgardian? She moved with hasty efficiency through the Jotun’s belongings creating a small pile of furs and jewelry and setting aside the ale skins. She wisely discarded the food. Midgardians could not thrive on what Jotun considered edible.

He nearly choked on the smoke from his pipe when she pulled out a bejeweled and ensorcelled cloak. Where in the nine realms had Brynjolf gotten that? It was a Jotun ceremonial cloak, used only for the mightiest of sorcerous rituals. He bit back a sardonic laugh as the Midgardian threw it on. Laufey would roll over in her grave if she knew that the cloak she had wrought with her very own hands was now keeping some powerless Midgardian warm. The irony was delightful.

It wasn’t until he heard her talking to the young in the sledge that he understood what drove this woman. Cries of “Mumma” were met by coos and soft assurances. Ah, she was a mother to at least some, if not all, of the children. Loki knew that Freya engendered all mothers with a fierce protectiveness of their young. No one with any sense tangled with a mother whose children were in danger. And these six Jotun had learned the truth of that axiom the hard way.

He had to admire her cleverness in setting herself free. The carnage around him told a tale of infighting that made him proud. No wonder she had called to him in her time of need. This Midgardian must have cleverly poked and prodded at each of the weak points he had been carefully cultivating in the troop over the last weeks. Using those weaknesses to turn the Jotun against one another had been a dangerous gamble. That she had succeeded spoke highly of her determination and wit. Combined with the surprisingly well-crafted oath she had made him swear in the span of a moment, he found the beginnings of a grudging admiration for this mortal. Generally, he considered mortals beneath his notice, but this one was causing him to reevaluate his opinion of at least one of them.

Now she stood eyeing him impatiently, and he smiled his half-toothless Wanderer’s grin.

“We can leave now. The storm is passed and it is day. The sooner begun, the sooner ended,” He cackled.

 

“Right,” Charlie drawled as she turned to the sledge and began fastening the leads around her shoulders and hips. She didn’t trust this Wanderer as far as she could throw him. The fact that he was helping them at all, oath or no, made her worry that she was somehow playing into his hands. Was he just a simple mercenary selling his knowledge or was he more than that? Norse mythology was filled with illusionists and at least one shape shifter in the form of Loki. Charlie touched the sharp Jotun blade she had stuffed through her belt in its sheath. She would have to keep an eye out and be prepared for trickery and betrayal from this one.

She pulled hard on the sledge and hurried through the carnage-filled room as quickly as she could. She hoped the children were too warm and drunk to notice the blue blood and entrails drenching the icy room. Outside was only a little better. It was frigid and windy, but at least the air was fresh and the snow made the sledge easier to pull across the ice. The morning was pale and clear displaying dune after dune of windswept snow. There were no landmarks to point the way, no trails running through this barren wilderness. She was completely at the mercy of this old bastard to get them all to safety.

“Which way, Old Man?” She asked. And so began Day One.

Charlie collapsed inside the cave, her thighs screaming and her knees giving out. Goddamn, but that Old Man could move when he had a mind to. She was certain now that he had been baiting the Jotun with his slow and ambling gate of yesterday. Today had been a long, rough day of pulling the sledge up over snow dunes and racing down the other side to keep up with a suddenly spry “Wanderer” who led them in straight, clean lines. They only paused long enough during the day for her to feed the children sips of the preciously limited ale that she had snagged from the stronghold. Now it was night and she was shivering with exhaustion and hunger. She downed a long draught of the ale and felt its warmth lend her new energy. She breathed heavily for a moment, letting the ale restore her. Gods, but what she wouldn’t give for a warm fire, some real food, and a chance to rest.

As if reading her mind, the man crouched down in the middle of the cave and blew into his cupped hands. A green fire sprang to life, lending light and sudden warmth to the tight cavern.

“Thank you, Old Man,” She said gratefully. She didn’t know what had caused him to spare her and the children this kindness, but she was utterly thankful for it.

“You’re welcome, Mother,” He said in a surprisingly serious voice. “We have a long way to go. You and the children must rest well while you can.” He stood and strode to the entrance of the cave.

“Where are you going?” She asked in surprise.

“I must scout the way ahead. All is not as barren as it seems in this land.” And with that he ducked through the crack in the stone and was gone.

Charlie turned to the six children who were beginning to stir in their nests. She had pulled the locks off the cages, but she had still kept the children bundled in them for warmth. Thea, always the bravest, climbed out of her cage first and looked around.

“Bad men gone, Mumma?” She asked hopefully. Charlie smiled and went to her. She picked the girl up in her arms and went to the fire.

“Yes, Sweets. The bad men are gone. Come, sit by the fire and get warm. But don’t touch it. It’s hot.” She dropped a kiss to Thea’s curls before going for the two smallest twins left in Thea’s nest. She brought them out too and laid them next to the fire where they kicked and rolled happily. It was the first time she had seen any true signs of life from the little ones, and she breathed a sigh of relief. She had feared they were too young to survive this ordeal. But babies were tougher than most people thought.

Dominic came out of his nest, dragging furs and pulling his two companions along behind him.

“Hungry, Mumma,” He insisted, ignoring the toddlers literally trailing at his feet. They were grappling with the furs and the surprise and Charlie chortled before quickly running to disentangle the children. One of the toddlers latched onto her waist and she hoisted her onto her hip without a second thought. All of these babies needed food and comfort. She wouldn’t deny it to any of them.

“Hungee,” The girl intoned in a fair approximation of Dominic.

“I know, Babies,” She sympathized as she let the girl down by Dominic and went back for her brother. “But we don’t have much.” She inspected the hollow-eyed children and felt her stomach drop. One day through and they had used nearly the entire skin of ale, and that had been with her rationing every drop. They had at least three, maybe four more days. She was going to have to stretch things, she realized grimly.

At least the old man wasn’t here to see this, Charlie thought guiltily as she drew the Jotun blade and carefully opened a vein in her wrist. It was a ghastly act, but at least she had proper tools this time - a blade, a cup, a strap of leather to tie around her arm. She wouldn’t have to feed the children directly like some freaking crazy vampire fetishist. And while blood was not the best source of nutrition, it was all she had for the children. It was only a few days. If she stretched the ale in this way, they would all make it to Asgard and safety. She fed the youngest first and moved onto the toddlers. She handled the cup for them, carefully monitoring every sip despite the dizziness consuming her. Finally Dominic and then Thea finished the cup. Charlie quickly took it to the back of the cave to rinse the contents. The sooner she got rid of the proof of the horror, the sooner she could forget it.

Feeling fuzzy and light-headed she stumbled back to the children. Thea and Dominic were cuddling while the older twins rolled near the babies, poking them with interest until they giggled or screamed. It was less than ideal, but at least the children were safe. She unslung the nearly empty skin of ale from her neck and sat down in the middle of the children. They all associated the appearance of the skin with food now and the older children crowded close while the babies began to cry. She fed the littlest ones first and then shared out the rest between the four older children. She saved a weak swig for herself last and ignored her empty belly as it cramped around the small swallow of ale.

And then she was too tired for anything else. She lay a fur on the ground near the fire and crowded the children close around her, pillowing the babies one on each breast and fell asleep.

 

Loki returned at dawn. He ducked into the cave and was taken aback for a moment by what he saw. The woman and the children were sprawled in a pathetic pile like a pack of dogs by his still glowing magical fire. He was struck by the fragility of the lives before him. Mortals: so weak, so quick to flare to life, and so easy to die. He wondered if even the woman would survive the next days despite her apparent determination. He gave the children a less than even chance of surviving, especially the babes. There was no food. It was cold. And the passage would be hard, especially the last part of it.

Mother he had called her, and she had not corrected him. He had hoped the woman would slip and give him her name. Names held power. In this limited form he would need the woman’s name if he were to work any magic on her. He would love to bespell her history from her, the history of these children. The Jotun had wanted the young for a reason, but he still did not understand what it was. Maybe her story would give him the clue he needed to unravel the mystery. Midgardian children, an ensorcelled Jotun cloak, and Niflheim were not a trio that should ever be brought together. What had Brynjolf been planning?

A snuffling cry jolted Loki from his thoughts. One of the babies was rooting around the woman’s chest, probably looking for a nipple. The woman didn’t even stir.

“No luck for you there, Little One,” Loki said softly as he picked up the wriggling baby without waking the others. He had been a father many, many times before, and he carefully guarded the secret of how much he had loved being with all of his children. No one could know the joy The Trickster took in caring for his sweet babies or it would be used against him. But with only one softly snoring Midgardian around, he felt safe in cuddling the baby in his arms. He had no trouble finding an ale skin, popping the top and feeding the hungry baby. He cooed softly to it as it drank, its eyes locked on his. They were beautiful eyes. A honey-gold hazel that reminded him of sunlight. Such an unusual color for a Midgardian.

The woman might have drawn an oath from him to take this makeshift family to Asgard, but in truth that was where he needed to take them anyway now that the Jotun were dead. These children were part of some larger threat. He needed to get them to Asgard before any other Jotun spotted them and spread word. He needed to take them to Odin to learn what made these children special. And he needed to search his vast library for any Jotun spells that involved Niflheim. He had no trouble accepting that a beautiful child could be deadly. His own children were some of the deadliest in the nine realms. It didn’t lessen his joy in caring for the babe.

“What are you doing?” The woman hissed. She was glaring at him from her place by the fire. She was pinned by children she obviously did not want to wake, or else he was sure she would have stalked over to him and snatched the baby from his arms.

“Feeding the baby,” He stated blandly. She rolled her eyes and let her head plop back to the ground.

“I can see that, Old Man,” She growled. “Be careful. We don’t have much and the baby can’t have too much ale. The alcohol could kill her.” Loki obeyed her directive and removed the skin from the still-hungry baby’s lips. He put her over his shoulder and patted her firmly three times. The baby let out an enormous belch and relaxed.

“You’re good at that,” The woman exclaimed in surprise.

“I’m good at many things, Mother,” He growled back at her, embarrassed at being caught out. “Now get up. It’s time to get moving. The path is clear.”

 

Day Two felt ten times harder than Day One. Charlie’s muscles ached and protested each time she pulled the sledge forward and took another step. The sledge felt like a millstone and pulling it up each of the never ending snow dunes made her feel Sysyphusian, not Midgardian. She took a brief rest and sat on the sledge when they went down the other side, enjoying the rest that the downward momentum allowed her.

“You are slower today,” The old man observed, drawing alongside her after the midday feeding and changing. Charlie glared up at him and for a moment wished she had the energy to wipe the smirk from his face.

“I’m a mere hungry mortal struggling through Jotunheim. I have my limits.” She gritted out instead as she pulled the sledge across a particularly difficult slope.

“You know where you are?” The Wanderer asked in surprise.

“Of course I don’t know where I am,” She grunted back. “If I knew where I was, then I wouldn’t need your sorry ass.” The old man just cackled at her insult, and Charlie felt a smile crack her features. A small one.

“I meant that you know which realm you are in,” He clarified, looking down at her thoughtfully.

“Uh, yeah.” She rolled her eyes. “Big, blue giants who use Allspeak and call me Midgardian? A frozen wasteland? We’re in Jotunheim.” She reiterated. Jesus, he must think her an idiot. With the total superhero craze that had been going on for the last few years any 14 year old boy in America would have concluded exactly the same thing that she had about their location.

But still, he was talking to her. It may be an irksome conversation, but this was the first time this eccentric creature had willingly engaged with her. Charlie planned to make the most of it.

“Why were you leading the Jotun to Niflheim?” She asked curiously.

“Because they were paying me,” He dodged her question. No help there. She tried a different tack.

“Why are you taking us to Asgard and not Midgard?” She pressed.

“Because that is the path that is open.”

Charlie huffed in annoyance. She had been a fool to think that this strange man would reveal anything useful to her. He was only guiding them because she had forced an oath from him at knifepoint. She should just shut her mouth and be pleased she was getting that much from him.

“And what do you know of Niflheim?” The Wanderer asked. Charlie answered him to distract herself from the pain in her body and the hollowness of her belly.

“Niflheim, the realm of the dead. Ruled by Loki’s daughter, Hel or Hela, depending on the translation. It is cold and damp. The great well Hvergelmir springs from its center and many of the sacred rivers have their source there.” She rattled off. There, finally she could give an answer that was beyond most teenage boys.

“You are knowledgeable,” He cackled approvingly.

“I should be. I’m a Classics Professor.” She shot back and then laughed sardonically. “I study mythology. You know, all of those ancient cultures with their legends and tales _that aren’t supposed to be true._ ” The sarcasm dripped heavily from her voice. “But here I am, tromping through Jotunheim with six children and your spooky ass and speaking of Niflheim and Asgard like they’re places we can just pop in and visit. Shit. I must be losing my mind. Maybe I’m in a coma and this is my brain’s way of coping with the trauma.”

The laughter that met her tirade was fuller and deeper than any cackle the old man had let loose so far. Charlie slanted a glance beneath lowered lashes at the old man. For a moment he didn’t seem quite so old or quite so frail. And Charlie’s breath stopped in her throat. She had her suspicions before, but now she knew: this “Wanderer” was more than he appeared. She had no idea who or what he truly was and a stab of fear lanced through her.

“Are we really going to Asgard? Can I trust you?” She asked carefully.

“I swore an oath to see you safely to aid and succor in Asgard.” The apparent man replied, back to being frail and harmless looking with his toothless grin. “I may not be trustworthy, but my oaths are.”

“So you’re a dishonorable creature with a sense of honor?” She laughed up at him. “Where does that place you in the Norse canon?”

“Useful Outcast,” The Wanderer laughed and Charlie laughed with him to hide her sudden stab of realization. There was only one ‘useful outcast’ in Norse mythology. And that was Loki.

Charlie shivered hard and bent back to the task of pulling the sledge. Was it possible that she was here in Jotunheim with the Father of Lies? The God of Mischief? She had called to him before setting the Jotun on each other, but she had been careful to make no requests of him. She was not so stupid as to put herself in his debt. She had just felt so lost and alone at the time that she had called on the one God she knew could handle the situation. She had never expected him to appear before her.

But maybe it wasn’t her specifically that the God of Mischief was interested in, she reasoned. Loki was known for disappearing from Asgard to wreak havoc in the other eight realms regularly. And she had already deduced that this Wanderer had been leading the Jotun on a merry ride well before she was kidnapped by them. If this was Loki that she was dealing with, it was because he was here for the Jotun. She was merely the Midgardian caught in the middle.

But where did that leave her children then on the lists of Loki’s interests? The Jotun had wanted them. They were taking them to Niflheim. If she was curious about what the Jotun were going to do to her children, then Loki, magical scholar, would be beyond intrigued. Had The Wanderer’s easy acquiescence to her oath have more to do with Loki’s own plans to take them to Asgard and less to do with the knife she had laid across his throat?

In the end it didn’t matter, she decided. Asgard was safer than Jotunheim. Maybe even safer than Midgard based on her current experiences. She had only this one guide to see her to safety. She was on this path and it was her only chance of getting out of Jotunheim and saving her children.

Night Two was more of the same for them. Screaming muscles and exhaustion for Charlie. A green flame followed by the old man’s departure. More blood and less ale than she would like to give to the starving children. They were hollow-eyed and listless this night. Even the ale didn’t perk them up like it had the previous day. The babies were quiet and slept fitfully. She worried about them the most. Would they survive the next two days like this? Would she be able to keep up her strength between the blood loss and lack of food?

She had no choice, she insisted as she wrapped the babies and children around her. She was mother to Thea and Dominic. She would save them at any cost.

And she was becoming a mother to these four others as well, she admitted as she snuggled the babies against her breasts. Small, nameless, helpless. Stolen by Jotun in the middle of the night for who knew what ghastly plan. They reached for her when she came to them, a look of hope in their eyes. They cuddled with her and reveled in what little affection she could spare. She would have to be totally heartless not to care for them. She would see them to safety and back to Earth. Hopefully they had living parents who were waiting for them in Midgard.

She snorted softly as she drifted off to sleep. Midgard. Earth. She was so exhausted couldn’t even keep her mythos straight anymore.

 

Loki eyed the woman in children in the early hours before dawn. They were more unconscious than asleep. This journey was taking its toll on the mortals. He would have to decide whether or not to help them soon.

He still debated. The Jotun had crossed realms to get to these children. They were special in some way he hadn’t fathomed yet. How dangerous were they? Would it be better to spill their blood on the ice and snow and be done with them then take the chance that they would bring harm down on Asgard and the rest of the nine realms? Or was Brynjolf mad with his hunger for power? Had he concocted some crazy scheme that would never have worked any way and these were just innocents caught in the Jotun’s web? He could not decide.

In the end he was letting fate make the choice for him. If this Midgardian female could follow him and keep the children safe, then he would let them live and bring them before Odin to decide their fates. If she could not… well then, the decision was made for him.

He crouched down before the sleeping pile of mortals. They were all failing. The children were limp and skinny where they lay on their mother. But, to his surprise, he found that the woman looked worse than all the rest. Granted, she was pulling the sledge and living on no food, but she was plump and had been in good health. Now she was pale and shriveled under the children, dark circles under her eyes standing in stark contrast to skin that was paler than he remembered. What was going on here that he was missing?

But his questions would have to wait. He had spotted a party of Jotun a few miles from their camp. If they left now, in the dark, there was a good chance that they could get away before they crossed paths. A whispered spell would bend the wind the tiniest bit in their favor and erase their tracks. If they waited, it would be suicide. He could not fight in this form, and he was bound to it until he was back in Asgard. It had been the only way that he could get close to Brynjolf and his pack without them smelling his magic and knowing that something was afoot.

“Get up,” He shook the woman’s shoulder where it peaked out between two children’s heads.  She opened her eyes but didn’t move.

“What is it?” She could hear the urgency in his voice. He could see that she was instantly awake.

“Jotun, coming this way. We must leave now. Dose the children with the ale to keep them quiet. We must not be heard.”

“That will leave us with nothing…” She trailed off and then her mouth set in a firm line. She nodded agreement. “So be it. Please, help me with the children.”

He did as she asked despite his vow to let fate have its say in the lives of the children. He could not abandon his oath to see them safely to Asgard when that safety depended on speed. They didn’t even bother to change diapers. Just moved and fed the half-awake children and swaddled them as deep into their nests as possible. The woman looked regretfully at the empty skin for a moment and then quickly bent to pack it with snow. She shoved it between her breasts to let it melt before moving to strap herself into the sledge. Loki moved with silent alacrity and cinched the ties faster than she could.

 

Charlie was already running through the snow when she came fully awake. The blood loss was leaving her weak and groggy. She wasn’t sure she could have even gotten the children packed up without the old man’s help. Thankfully, his oath to see them to safety included helping her when time was of the essence. Now she pulled the sledge in the blue-black of the night as fast as she could, adrenaline and fear pushing aside weakness and exhaustion. They were running for their lives. The only sound they made was the soft tramp of her handmade boots on the snow and the susurrus of the sledge’s rails as it cut through the snow. She hoped the cross wind would hide those sounds from any Frost Giants lurking in the vicinity.

She glanced behind her and saw a dim spark of light on the horizon. Not the dawn. It held the brilliant blue that indicated Jotun magic. Charlie shivered and leaned harder into the sledge harness. All she could see in the darkness was the old man’s feet in front of her. She followed doggedly in his footsteps trusting that he would take them via the quickest and quietest path away from the Frost Giants.

By the time the weak dawn broke over Jotunheim, Charlie was sweaty and shaking as she pulled the sledge. The edge the adrenaline had given her had run out entirely. She was running, literally, on force of will alone. She wasn’t sure how much longer she could keep this up without a break.

_You will do it for as long as you must_ , she told herself ruthlessly. She hadn’t come this far and lost so much just to end up back in the hands of a different set of Frost Giants. These ones were unlikely to be as easy to escape as the first group had been. And that had not been ‘easy’ in any sense of the word. She slid down the lee of a snow dune to find the Wanderer standing with his head cocked, listening. Charlie slid to a stop beside him, trying to quiet the wheeze of her breathing so that she wouldn’t interrupt him. She raised her eyebrows in mute question when he turned to face her.

“We are safe enough for now,” He said turning to give her a once over. “Are you well?”

“Fine, just need water,” She croaked, pulling the thawed water skin from its place at her breast. She drank greedily, finishing the entire flask. The water was cold and bracing and reviving. She crouched down to refill the skin with snow. When it was full and tucked away against her chest, Charlie realized that she couldn’t get up. She was so weak. Her legs refused to listen to her begging them to move, to uncurl. She grabbed onto the edge of the sledge for leverage and still couldn’t get the boost she needed. Charlie nearly jumped when a hard hand grasped her elbow and pulled her up to a standing position.

“You are unwell. We will rest here,” The man was frowning down at her fiercely.

“How safe is it to rest?” She asked, her entire being begging her to just lay down for a while, to just close her eyes for a couple of minutes. His deepening frown was the only answer she needed.

“No. We press on. I can do this if we stop running.” She insisted. He nodded mutely and continued on at a more sedate pace. Charlie leaned into the braces and feared that the sledge would not move. The first few steps were always the hardest, but once it gained momentum, the runners tracked smoothly across the snow. With a groan and a curse, Charlie pulled with all her might and the sledge finally, finally moved. She stumbled the first few steps and then found her gait. One foot in front of the other, she doggedly pushed through the day.

Charlie woke to the crying of the children. She jerked awake with a start and realized she was still strapped to the sledge. She didn’t remember how they had gotten to this small cave. The last few hours of today’s journey had been a haze of pain and determination. She had been sleep walking for some of it, she was certain. The customary green fire lit the cave. The old man was nowhere to be seen.

“Hungry, Mumma! We hungry!” Thea wailed pitifully above the crying of the other children.

“I’m coming, I’m coming,” She murmured, unhooking the straps. She untied the leather cords from the two nests and children came spilling out to surround her. Charlie fell to her knees and let them wrap her in their desperation. The two smallest ones were quiet and unmoving and a spurt of fear had her moving to touch them. They were warm in her grasp and snuffled a little a she shook them. Not dead, she thought with relief. But not well either.

“There’s no more ale, My Loves,” She whispered to the children, rocking them gently in her arms. “I know you’re hungry. I will give you what I have.” She moved away from the children and shrugged out of her fur. It was suddenly too hot for her anyway. She pushed up her pajama sleeves and unwound the makeshift bandages from her forearms. The left was still a bloody mess. The two jagged slices weren’t healing and she couldn’t bear the thought of how much it would hurt to reopen the wounds.

Her right arm was in marginally better condition. Only one long slice marred the vein. She pulled the leather cord from her pocket and tied it ruthlessly around her bicep. Her wonderfully sharp Jotun knife would make the new slice nearly painless. It was only the pain afterwards that she would have to deal with. She fumbled with her knife and dropped it in the snow. Dammit. She was weaker than she thought. She didn’t know how she would pull the sledge for even one more day, much less the two their journey was likely to take.

She had reached a crossroad. She would have to decide between feeding the children and pulling the sledge. _I can feed them once more_ , she told herself desperately. _One more time and then the children would only have to starve for a day or so. You can do this._

With that thought in her mind, Charlie pumped her hand until the good part of her vein bulged beneath the skin. She decided against the cup tonight. She didn’t have the energy to hold it. She kids could drink straight from her vein. To that end, she made a deep puncture wound in her arm. Blood beaded immediately to the surface, and she swung her arm over the baby girl nestled in the furs. She placed her skin to the baby’s lips and pumped her hand ruthlessly before releasing the leather tie in her mouth. The blood flowed with blessed smoothness from her body and into the child’s mouth. The baby sucked greedily and Charlie felt a wave of dizziness overcome her. She kept pumping her hand anyway. This was to be their last meal for goodness knew how long. She would make it count for all of them.

It took two more cuts to get through the rest of the children. When Dominic finished, Charlie saw stars and fell to the floor. She didn’t know anything for a long time.

It was late in the night when Charlie came to. Her arm had frozen into the small pool of blood under her wrist and she was shivering violently. If she hadn’t passed out with her arm away from the fire, she would have bled to death, she realized with a shrill of fear. The freezing cold ground had slowed and then stopped the bleeding. She pushed herself to a sitting position, rewrapped the wounds, and slid into her cloak. Those simple acts took all her energy. She collapsed back into a pile near the fire, not even aware of where the children were.

 

Loki hobbled quickly towards the cave, pleased that he finally had some good news to share with the Midgardian woman. Yesterday’s headlong flight and full day of travel had brought them to within sight of the portal. They could make it there today and be in Asgard for dinner if all went well.

Loki stopped short of the cave and shook himself. This weakened form must be taking its toll on him. How could he be excited to talk to a mortal? A disgusting, mouth-breathing Midgardian no less?

But she had surprised him yesterday with her will and determination. In his long millennia of life he had seen Viking warriors crumble under less harsh conditions. The cold was biting and extreme. She was ill. Yet she pulled that sledge all through the predawn and well into the evening, refusing to stop even as twilight fell. She had earned his grudging respect.

The scene that met him when he entered the cave stopped his jubilant words. The children were still nestled in the sledge, not cuddled with their mother. And the woman was sprawled by the fire, lungs barely moving her chest under the heavy weight of the ensorcelled cloak. He stepped quickly to her and pressed his fingers to her neck. Her pulse was fast and thready. It felt like her heart was beating too hard with too little blood to pump. It didn’t make sense. Why was this mortal so weak in the body when she was so strong in the spirit? He blinked once and slid his godly sight into view. She was weak there too. Her soul light still glowed white and green and gold, but it hovered close to her as if conserving itself. There was no question about it: this mortal woman was near death.

“Wake up, Mother!” He commanded her, shaking her fiercely. It took a few tries, but her eyes finally opened and slowly focused on him.

“Old Man?” She said through parched lips.

“I have good news,” He announced, forcing her into a sitting position. “We made better time than even I suspected yesterday. We are near the portal to Asgard. All will be well. You just need to help get the children there. The last part is treacherous. It will take the both of us to guide them.”

“Oh. Okay,” She replied slowly, trying to clear her brain. “I just need some water and then I’ll be fine.”

She needed food, rest, and a healer, Loki thought. But he could provide none of those things here in Jotunheim. This form consumed so little of his magical energy that he hadn’t even brought food with him into the wasteland. They needed to hurry if they were to get to the portal before more Frost Giants came their way. And Freya didn’t even know of the portal, buried as it was in one of the remotest forests of Asgard. He couldn’t get a message to her from here in any case.

But water he could manage. He pulled the empty flask from where it rested on the ground and magically melted snow into it. A parlor trick for him in his true form. An act of will in this near-mortal one.

She drank greedily while Loki held the bottom of the skin. He slowly replaced the water she drank so the skin remained full until she finished. When she slaked her nearly endless thirst he refilled the skin and left it by her. He went to check on the children. They were doing better than he expected. They were rosy cheeked and sleeping still when they should have been weak and crying with hunger. What was he missing here?

The rattling of the leads drew him from his reverie. The woman was swaying slightly as she shrugged into the harness, but she was doing it. Loki reached over and helped her cinch it tight. No matter his feelings for the woman, the children remained a potential, unquantified danger. He was still letting fate decide their destiny. And their destiny lay with their mother. He had already interfered with her enough.

“I’ve got this,” She murmured in a thick voice. “I’ve got it.”

 

“I’ve got it,” Charlie’s voice was thick and distant sounding to her own ears. She felt detached from her own body, like it was an automaton that she controlled with jerking commands from her brain. But it was just one more day, she told herself. One more day of pain and sluggishness and then she could rest. The children would be safe.

“I can do this,” She assured the old man. Her first steps slid on the ice and the sledge didn’t move. She nearly fell when her knees wobbled, but she regained her balance and tried again. It slid slowly from its perch on the ice and into the cold haze of another overcast day.

Today’s journey was up and up and up. Charlie struggled mightily with the sledge. It felt like it weighed a ton when in truth she had pulled it just fine only two days before. She was just too weak. She had lost too much blood too quickly. Without nutrients to replenish the store, she was working at a serious deficit. She was scared, she admitted as the sledge nearly tipped her backwards. What if she couldn’t do this? What if she had erred in last night’s feeding and pushed herself over the edge? She couldn’t let her children die when she was this close to saving them. She pitched forward and pulled on doggedly. She followed The Wanderer’s slow steps as best she could, weaving a bit but generally keeping the sledge on track. Just a few more hours, a few more steps. Her world closed to a pinhole of light that framed the boots she needed to follow. She didn’t need to see anything else.

“This is as far as we can go with the sledge,” The old man announced. Charlie looked up to see a large stone cliff face soaring into the sky in front of her. She had been so focused on pulling the sledge that she hadn’t even noticed.

“What now, Old Man?” She asked tiredly. The cliff face was an apparently solid sheet of rock stretching from horizon to horizon. She could see no way forward.

“Now magic.” The old man bowed his head. He took deep breaths and fluttered his fingers in a come hither motion. A crack sounded and a thin sliver of blackness opened in the cliff face. A passageway.

Charlie swayed in shock and happiness. Her fears of who this man might really be were easily eclipsed by the wave of joy that swept through her. She had done it! They would be leaving this wretched place for the safety of Asgard!

“There are too many children and I don’t trust them to walk right now,” She looked up at the old man thoughtfully. “Can we drag them on the furs?”

“Yes,” He replied. “But swaddle them tight. The passage is narrow and they can’t wiggle or they’ll fall as we climb.”

Climb? Charlie’s heart fell. Could nothing be easy in this Gods forsaken realm?

“If travel between the realms was easy, then everyone would do it.” The old man intoned as if reading her mind.

Charlie harrumphed and started disentangling from the harness. If she never pulled a sledge again, it would be too soon. She hoped that after this her days as beast of burden were over. A final surge of adrenaline pumped through her as she realized just how close to her goal she was. The world snapped into glittering focus and she worked hard to pull the furs from around the children and rewrap them.

Ideas came to her as she worked.

“Thea and Dominic are strong walkers. They won’t stay still enough for us to drag them anyway, even in their current state.” She announced as she began wrapping the tiny babies individually. “You take the boys and I’ll take the girls. One strapped to the front and the other strapped to the back. We can both coax Thea and Dominic along.”

And suddenly Charlie realized her error. She had given away her children’s _names_. Now this wizard would have power over them. What would he do? She spun to face him expecting him to be laughing at her slip and start whisking the children away from her.

“Peace, Mother,” He said raising his hands in a gesture of openness. “I will stand by my oath. Your children are safe.” She sagged in relief. Thank the gods that she had made him swear to see them to aid and succor in Asgard. He would not be able to turn on them the moment they reached the realm. She should be able to see her children to safety before the oath broke and this wizard was free to do as he pleased. Perhaps Freya would take them in if she pled her case?

After minutes of shrugging and adjusting they got the children strapped safely. Now all that was left was for Thea and Dominic to climb down from their nests.

“We’re almost home, Sweethearts,” She soothed as she helped Thea and Dominic climb down. “Just a small hike in a cave. I know how much you love hiking.” She coaxed them down and grasped one tiny hand in each of her own. “Walk with Mumma and we’ll be warm and fed soon.”

The promise of food lit her starving children’s eyes, and Charlie swallowed back tears as she stared at their hollow faces. But still, it could be worse. She had gotten them through this alive. They would recover with some rest and food.

The cave was dark and dank and narrow. Way, way, way up at the top Charlie could see a pinprick of light.

“Asgard?” She asked hopefully.

“Yes,” The Wanderer confirmed.

“OK. We can do this,” She encouraged her kids. “Up the long path and we’re safe. Who wants to race?” The blank looks from her twin’s faces caused another sharp pain in her heart. These two never did anything but race when they were healthy.

“No racing then. Let’s just go.” And she led them into the darkness.

A green light flared over their heads as they entered the cavern. A ball of light floated dimly above the old man’s head, illuminating the rocky path.

“Aren’t you full of surprises?” Charlie murmured as they started what promised to be an interminable climb.

“You have no idea,” He replied, the depth suddenly present in his voice again. Charlie recoiled, reminded that this old man was not the simple wanderer he claimed to be. He had magic and motives that she didn’t understand. What would happen when they reached Asgard? She wondered, her heart suddenly in her throat.

Charlie’s adrenaline lasted maybe another ten minutes and then the world began to spin again. She leaned heavily against the wall with her shoulder as she urged Thea in front of her and pulled Dominic from behind. Her heart began beating fast and hard in her chest, its unsteady rhythm thumping in her ears. Gods, but she just wanted to lie down right where she was and let the cold ground swallow her. It was only Thea’s insistent tugging on her hand that kept her moving. But then Thea began to tire too. Time and their pace slowed to a crawl. The green light drifted farther and farther away from her until they had nothing but a mere shadow to guide them.

The old man was abandoning them! She realized with a shock. He would leave them here in this cavern and close the way to Asgard behind him. He had two of the babies. That might be all he needed for whatever nefarious plans an oath-breaker had in mind. The rush of fear caused her heart to beat so hard she thought it might burst, but she pushed Thea ahead of her and hastened their climb. They had to catch up.

But it was impossible. The weight of the children on her chest and back drew her down, the steep incline made her thighs burn and her knees weak. She couldn’t get enough breath. She wheezed and choked as she forced her children up the narrow path. With the rock to her shoulder, they were bound to eventually reach the top even in the pitch dark that surrounded them. The pin prick of light that was Asgard seemed marginally bigger than it had when they started. They just had to keep going and hope for the best.

And then the light of Asgard flickered out.

Charlie froze in the darkness, her failure complete. After coming so far, after fighting so hard, was it really to end like this? Stranded in a pitch black cavern with nowhere to go but back down to Jotunheim? Suddenly she heard a sharp crack, and she knew in her heart that the path to Jotunheim had just closed below them. They were stranded.

“No…” Charlie whispered and sank to her knees. She was too weak and heartbroken to go on. They were trapped alone in the darkness, slated to die of thirst and starvation. How long could they survive down here? How often did Asgardian’s use this passage? Not frequently enough, she realized, feeling the dust puff beneath her knees. They could go an entire lifetime down here and never be found.

She hung her head and felt her first tears since the start of this entire nightmare begin to fall. Cloying defeat was a bitter lump in her throat. How could she have been so stupid? How could she have trusted that old bastard to lead them to safety? Oath or no, he had only done what had suited his purposes. Get as many of the children safely and into his clutches as possible and leave the rest to die. He had no honor. He had even admitted that was so. She must have been desperate indeed to think that by ‘useful outcast’ the wizard was implying he was Loki. He was probably some lesser god or being preying upon her desperation. She was an idiot.

 

Loki raced to the top of the path, his vigor returning with each step that brought him closer to Asgard. He could feel his spell beginning to dissolve as he reached the portal. He pulled himself up through the crack in the soil and landed on blessedly warm, sun dappled grass. For a moment he just lay there on his side, feeling all of his strength and vitality and magic seeping back into his being. He was a god again. He basked in his power until wiggling bodies against his chest and back drew him back to the moment. Gods be damned, he still had children strapped to his body. He had totally forgotten about them as his power surged through him.

Carefully he undid the straps that held the baby to the front of his body and set him in the grass. With but a thought, the other straps dissolved and the toddler slipped free. He pulled the too-silent children into the warm sun. He unwrapped the furs and examined them closely for the first time.

Two boys, about a year apart in age. Each olive skinned and curly haired with shining dark eyes. The irises were such a dark brown that they bled into the pupils appearing almost black in the daylight. An unusual color for a Midgardian, he thought, and then remembered the girl child he had fed back in Jotunheim. Honey gold eyes of sunshine, equally unusual, stood in sharp contrast to the darkness that bled from the boys’ eyes. There was something different about these children, but he would have to see them all together to know if his initial observations held true.

All together, Loki thought and uttered a string of curses that would make even Odin blush. He had left four children and the woman stranded in the passage between the worlds. With a thought he closed the entrance to Jotunheim. No Frost Giants would be able to threaten them now.

Casting a simple illusion, Loki transformed back into the Old Man, as the woman so fondly referred to him. But this was but a mask. His true power hummed beneath his skin. He had access to all his magic.

Loki flew down the passageway, hurtling straight down into the depths of the cavern. He avoided the steps as unnecessary now that he was himself again. He could see the soul lights of five mortals glowing on the trail and he slowed his descent with but a thought and landed lightly. He was far enough above them that they wouldn’t have seen or heard him. He needed to keep this illusion in place for now if he were to keep the woman’s trust.

“Mother,” He called lightly as he strolled down the path. “I’ve returned for you.”

“Fuck you,” Came the deadly hiss from below him. “Fuck you, oath-breaker. Have you killed the other children already? Do you think I will just let you come and take the rest of what’s mine?” She threatened with cold fury. “I will kill you myself first.”

Loki’s heard the soft draw of the Jotun blade from its sheath. It wouldn’t kill him if she stabbed him, but it would sting. Those Jotun blades were bespelled to ensure that healing was a slow and painful process, even for a god.

“I have not broken my oath,” he replied calmly, admiring her fire. Her soul light was flaring again, gold and brilliant in the dark of the passage. “I am here. The boys are fine and waiting for you in Asgard. Come with me and I’ll show you.” He took a step closer and dodged on the rocky precipice when she swung the blade at him.

“Make me,” She dared him.

And no one, but no one, dared the God of Mischief. Loki laughed, his glamour falling away as his voice resounded deep and terrible in the dark.

“If that is what you wish,” He replied, his temper flaring within him. A flick of his hands and he had all four of them bound in a tight cocoon.

“What the hell?” She screamed in the darkness. “Let me go, you bastard. You piece of shit. How dare you imprison me?”

“You talk too much sometimes, Mother,” He intoned and slapped a spell on her mouth to keep her from uttering any more obscenities. The children began to scream and wail, set off by their mother’s fear and anger. Sweet Freya, he thought as he fashioned a handle into the cocoon and started pulling his recalcitrant load up the stairs. This was not how he imagined this rescue would go at all.

He ran up the passage, cushioning the cocoon from taking any unnecessary blows. He would get them all to Asgard, to warmth and sunlight, and then all would be well.

Loki burst through the ground and into the air, landing lightly twenty feet away from the gorge near where he had placed the two boys. He floated the cocoon over to the grass next to them and with a soft pop he released it. The woman and children stumbled to the ground.

“Oh, my babies, my babies,” The woman sobbed as she dropped to her knees. She didn’t spare a glance for Loki, just crawled on her knees to where the two naked boys kicked and rolled in the sunlight. She grasped the hands of the oldest children and brought them with her.

“Let’s get you out of these disgusting furs, my Loves,” She laughed in delight, her head lifted to the warm sunlight. Thea and Dominic started wiggling themselves out of the tightly wrapped furs. They were naked in no time, bare bottoms turned to the sun as they wallowed in the sweet grass. The mother carefully unwrapped her other two burdens and pulled the filthy furs from their little bodies. She rolled them into the green, green grass and with a beatific smile passed out.  


 

 

 

                                                                                      

 

 

 

 


	3. Chapter 3

Loki ran to the woman, his anger dissolving. Mortals were weak, and she had pushed herself hard; been brave and unwavering in the protection of her children. Of course she had been terrified by his apparent betrayal of his oath. She had experienced nothing but brutality, pain, and hopelessness in the brief time that he had known her. He should have expected her wrath. He admired her even. Not many would risk their lives by challenging him directly.

The two oldest children reached her first.

“Mumma, Mumma!” They were wailing, shaking her limp body. “Wake up, Mumma!” Tears were leaving clean tracks on their filthy cheeks. Loki sent a brief call for help as he dropped to the woman’s side. She was face down in the grass, limp and suddenly frail beneath the heavy cloak. Had she made it through the ordeal of Jotunheim only to die in Asgard’s sweet light?

He rolled her over and flung open the cloak. She was rank and filthy beneath it. He pressed his fingers to her throat, relieved to find a slight pulse rushing beneath her skin. She was sweaty and pale and shivering. Loki pulled the furs from her and allowed the fresh air to cool her brow and blow away the smell of too many days in Jotunheim. He ran his hands along her arms and legs searching for some injury she had been hiding from her that would explain her infirmity.

He found the bulging padding on her forearms and frowned. Carefully he tugged up the sleeves to her elbows. Both of her forearms were wrapped with makeshift bandages made from strips of cloth. Blood had seeped through them to leave scarlet blotches along the wraps.

“What have you done, Midgardian?” He asked, sitting back on his heels as he took in the wounds.

“Mumma feed us,” Dominic offered. “Please, make Mumma better.” He begged. Loki’s eyes widened at the simple explanation the child delivered.

“I will take care of her,” He assured the children. “But tell me, how has your mother been feeding you?”

“Blood,” Thea answered in the no-nonsense manner that only a child used. The girl child didn’t understand the ramifications of what her mother had done.

But Loki did. Understanding dawned on him as the pieces fell into place. The lack of food, starving children, a mother in desperate straits determined to keep her children alive. No wonder her strength had failed her so quickly during their journey. This woman wasn’t just some weak mortal. She had literally been draining herself of her life’s blood to keep her children alive as they fled through Jotunheim. And she had been using a Jotun blade to do so.

A soft whicker indicated that his help had arrived. Loki rose and turned to his eight-legged son, Sleipnir, and went to him.

“Thank you for coming, My Son,” He praised as he stroked the horse’s massive head and shoulders. “Thank you for bringing what I need.” He stroked his son’s flank as he went into one of the saddlebags strapped to his son’s massive saddle. He pulled a small dried fruit from the pouch and returned to the woman.

He couldn’t heal her completely – that would require Freya’s and Eir’s expertise – but he could give her enough energy to get her to the city of Asgard where help awaited them. He knelt by the woman’s head and pushed the fruit into her mouth. She didn’t move so he closed her mouth tightly against the fruit, waiting for it to dissolve and lend her its power.

 

Charlie came to with such a rough shock of energy she wondered if someone had used a defibrillator on her. Her back arched at the sudden rush of vitality surging through her. Her lungs expanded in the fullest breath she had ever taken. She nearly choked on something in her mouth and chewed and swallowed whatever it was out of pure reflex. Another rush of vigor, stronger than the first, spiked through her body, and she sat up with a rush. She was ready to run, to fight, to flee. Whatever was necessary, she now had the energy to accomplish it.

“Mumma!” She was tackled by two warm bodies. With her new found strength she didn’t even sway under the assault. She just grabbed onto her children and held them close to her chest, breathing in the warm air and tilting her face up to the soothing sunlight. She closed her eyes despite the zinging of her body and basked in the glow for a moment.

“Woman, you have much explaining to do,” A deep, resounding voice commanded. Charlie’s eyes flew open and she met the impossibly green eyes of a young, powerful man. Even kneeling beside her she realized that we was tall, his lanky body curled as he crouched down beside her. Hair black as midnight fell to his broad shoulders, framing an angular jaw and thin lips drawn into a frown. This wasn’t a man, she realized, as she met the emerald green eyes again. They were incredibly old, incredibly wise, belying his youthful appearance. And she swore she could see a green and gold nimbus outlining him in the sunlight.

“Oh, shit,” Was all she could manage as memory came rushing back to her. Her fury at being abandoned, The Wanderer’s return, and her futile attempt to stab him that had resulted in her magical incapacitation. This was no man, but a god. And she had attacked him. Shapeshifting, creating mischief, speaking in riddles. There was only one god this could be.

“You’re Loki.” She stated breathlessly. Fear spiked through her. She was in the hands of the God of Mischief. Had been for some time. And she had been careless and dismissive of him during their time together. Even tried to slash him with a knife. She wanted to use her new vitality to gather up the children and flee before he punished her, but she realized the futility of such a move. As well as she felt now, she was still just a mortal. She was no match for a member of the Aesir.

“Very good,” He purred leaning closer and grasping her chin. He tilted her face this way and that, studying her. “And you’ve been making blood gifts to your children. You nearly died, you foolish wench.”

She wrenched her face away from his touch, her anger flaring at his manhandling of her.

“What choice did I have?” She demanded. “There was no food. The children were starving. It was too cold for them to survive without sustenance. I gave them what I had.”

“You are truly a Mother.” He stated, dropping his hand and pointing to the other children lying in the grass. “They all survived. They are weak, but they would be dead if you hadn’t fed them.”

Charlie followed his finger and saw the other four children, sprawled naked in the grass nearby.

“Dominic, Thea, let me up,” She commanded gently and the kids unwound themselves from her chest. Charlie crawled over to the children. They were pale and too skinny. The babies’ arms were scrawny and their legs lacked the chubbiness that all healthy babies should have. The toddlers were skin and bones as well, but they all appeared to be sleeping peacefully in the midday sun.

“So we are in Asgard then?” She asked as she turned back to Loki, joy rushing through her veins and compounding the energy overloading her system.

“Yes,” Loki replied, amused by the woman’s lack of awe at finding herself before a god. But he was no regular god, and he didn’t demand words of flattery and obeisance from mortals. Let Odin and Thor revel in empty lip service. He preferred to be called as he was.

“And you are The Wanderer? You have been our guide this whole time?” She asked, a trace of awe finally creeping into her voice.

“Yes,” He confirmed, smiling as he watched realization dawn on her. She went a little pale beneath the rush of energy warming her features.

“How should this mortal address a god?” She asked, bowing her head in sign of respect.

Loki laughed long and loud at her discomfiture.

“Well, I have become particularly fond of ‘Old Man’ and ‘your spooky ass’ had quite a ring to it.” She had the decency to blush at the recitation of her nicknames for him. He chuckled again. “But Loki will do just fine for now.”

“Yes, Loki,” She replied obediently, but the words felt awkward and too informal in her mouth.

“And what shall I call you?” He asked in kind. “’Mother’ doesn’t quite seem specific enough.”

“Charlie,” She responded quickly. “I am Charlie.”

“Charlie?” He exclaimed with a snort. “That sounds like a sneeze. What a childish name for a mortal such as you.”

She frowned, unsure of what to make of his oblique statement. Was that a compliment or not?

“Now come, we need to get you to the city before your energy runs out.” Loki commanded, standing. Gods, but he was really tall, Charlie thought as she stared up at his long form. Built like a god too. All lean muscle moving beneath a complicated costume of green and gold leather and armor.

“What do you mean?” She asked. “Didn’t you heal me?”

“No, my dear Charlie,” He chuckled as he moved to the gigantic eight-legged horse who listened closely to their exchange. It was the first time she realized the beast was there.

“Holy hell! That’s Sleipnir!” She exclaimed.

“Yes,” Loki replied, amused at her Midgardian swearing. “My son will take us to the city of Asgard where your healing can truly begin.”

“What do you mean?” She asked, frowning from where she sat next to the children. “I feel fantastic.” Thea and Dominic had climbed into her lap and were hugging her tightly again.

Loki turned to the scene of domesticity and felt his heart clench for a moment. For a brief time, this woman and her brood had almost become his family. Once they got to Asgard that would end. Freya and Odin would descend upon them, and he would be unlikely to see them again. His part in Odin’s mission was complete. He was no longer needed.

“I gave you a special fruit, one that is dangerous for mortal’s except under the direst of circumstances. Its magic will not last long. Once the magic runs out you will return to being weak and ill from blood loss. We must get you to the city before that happens.” He didn’t mention the slow poison that the magic of the Jotun blade was working through her system. Mortals were not made to withstand such magic. Instead he tightened the cinch on Sleipnir’s saddle. “Come, help me gather the children.”

Charlie nodded mutely and obeyed. Just when she thought that all was well, there was still one last leg of this journey. But at least this one was only a danger for her. The children would be safe.

If it weren’t for the grief she knew her loss would wreak on Dominic and Thea, she wouldn’t even care for her own life. Her soul was tired despite the vigor in her body. She had seen too much, lost too much in the past days. Her husband had been murdered, she had been kidnapped. She had killed at least two Jotun with her own hand and ensured the death of four others. The panicked trek through the wilds of Jotunheim while trying to keep six children alive had pushed her to the breaking point. She found that she was tired of living.

Loki examined the children as Charlie (what a stupid name!) handed them to him. Each of the boys had the same black eyes and the girl’s all had the same honey-colored hazel ones that glowed gold in the sunlight. Whatever these children were they weren’t entirely human, of that he was certain.

He converted the saddlebags into carriers for the two babies. They squirmed fitfully but stilled once he had them safely strapped in. After the woman, he was worried most about these two the most. Babies of this age should be squalling energetically, not lethargically letting some stranger handle them like they were baggage. Their lives depended on his son’s swiftness as well.

Loki boosted Charlie high onto Sleipnir’s saddle. She landed easily, the magic from the fruit powering her movements. He handed first the younger girl child and then Thea up to her.

“What are the other children’s names?” Loki asked curiously as he bundled the boys against him in one arm and flung lightly into the saddle.

“Truthfully, I have no idea,” Charlie answered from behind him. “They were already in the cages when we arrived. I don’t know where they come from or who their parents are.”

“But they look like they could all be siblings,” Loki pointed out as he urged Sleipnir into a slow trot.

“I know,” She replied. “I don’t understand any of this.”

“Me either,” Loki admitted quietly and then raised his voice. “Now hold onto me tightly with the children in the middle. Sleipnir is fast as the wind.” Charlie’s magic-enhanced arms wrapped solidly around his waist and he urged Sleipnir into a gallop.

Charlie’s breath was swept away as Sleipnir took off. It was like riding on the fastest motorcycle ever, heading for Mach one and beyond. Tears whipped from her eyes and she closed them tight and clutched onto Loki. She leaned forward, sandwiching the two children between them so they didn’t fall. Loki, being a god, handled the buffeting winds with ease. She was just grateful for the protection of his broad back to keep the wind from blowing her clean off of the horse.

The ride stretched on and on, long enough for Charlie to wonder what remote part of Asgard the portal to Jotunheim was located in. It must be one of the Trickster’s closely guarded secret passageways between realms. After nearly an hour Charlie started to feel dizzy and weak again. With horror she realized that the magic was wearing off. Her stomach wretched and heaved unexpectedly. She was worried that she wouldn’t be able to hang on for the rest of the journey. Thea and the girl were her responsibility. She could not fail them. Charlie looped and wrapped her fingers through various straps in Loki’s armor to keep from losing her grip. Tightly bound to him now, she would probably manage to stay on the horse even if she slipped into unconsciousness.

Charlie wanted to warn Loki of her failing state. She wanted to ask how much longer she needed to hang on. But the wind whipping on made communication impossible. Instead she rested her forehead against Loki’s back and concentrated on breathing and keeping the dizziness at bay. She clutched her thighs tight to the heaving horse and simply hung on for dear life.

Loki urged Sleipnir to move even faster, sending his son praise and gratitude as the horse pushed to his limits. He could feel the mortal woman sagging behind him. They were close to the city of Asgard now. She only had to hang on for a few more minutes and then she would be safe. Could she do it?

And then they were racing up the long gold road leading to the seat of the Aesir and Odin’s throne, the setting sun casting the castle in brilliant swathes of light and shadow. Freya and Eir were waiting at the gates with a number of handmaidens as he had asked when he sent his plea for help. Sleipnir slowed and his hooves echoed on the gold and marble as he trotted up to the two goddesses.

“In the name of the Vanir, what have you done, Loki?” Freya gasped as the god turned Sleipnir to a stop. “Who are all of these children?”

“I have completed Odin’s task,” He said imperiously. “These children are the spoils the Jotun were hunting and the woman is their mother. They are all in dire need of your healing, especially the woman.”

“I’ve never seen such an odd gathering of mortal children,” Freya marveled, quickly moving with Eir to unburden Loki and Sleipnir. Freya slid the boys from Loki’s arms. Eir pulled the babies from the saddle bags. They passed the children to the waiting handmaidens.

It was then that Loki realized that Charlie was still and unmoving in the saddle behind him. Her cold fingers were wound in his clothing in such a way as to prevent her from falling off of the horse. With a word he touched the ties and they released her fingers. He clasped her cold hands with his before she could fall from Sleipnir. The magic of the fruit had clearly worn off during their journey. Was she alive back there? He wondered with a stab of uncharacteristic concern.

“Let her go, Loki,” We will catch her and the children.” Freya commanded. Loki gently let her hands slide from his and felt the dead weight slip from Sleipnir’s back. It was not a good sign.

“Does she yet live?” He asked, looking over his shoulder to see the pale, bedraggled woman crumpled in Freya’s arms.

“Yes, but barely. We must take her to Eir’s now if she is to survive.”

“Go then. I will find Odin and tell him what I’ve learned.”  


Charlie woke to the sound of singing. Soft female voices wove beautiful melodies around her. She was warm for the first time in ages. Her body felt heavy and languid. She rested there for a long moment letting the healing song drift over her body, the soft lapping of water providing a gentle counterpoint to the words even though she couldn’t understand them.

Finally, slowly, she opened her eyes to a room filled with a soothing rose colored light. She was mildly surprised to find herself floating in a massive bath, nearly a swimming pool, sunk deep into the floor. Women dressed in white robes were moving in the water, each tending to one of her children. She sighed and sank deeper into the water with relief. They had made it to Asgard. They were safe. She closed her eyes and almost drifted off again when a mellow laugh tinkled near her ear.

“Not so fast, Midgardian,” The statuesque blond said gently. “We haven’t even started on you. Here, drink this.” And the woman pressed a gold goblet to her lips and tipped it so she could swallow. Charlie was grateful for the assistance. Her arms throbbed and she felt so weak. She wasn’t sure that she could have lifted the cup on her own.

The liquid was pure bliss sliding down her throat. It tasted of honey and roses and sunshine, all that was light and life distilled into a single, intoxicating liquor that eased her throat and belly as she swallowed greedily. Colors and shapes came into focus as the libation worked its healing magic. Her muscles eased further in the steaming water and she felt her spine unkink. The only pain left was that in her forearms.

“Are you Lady Freya?” Charlie asked in amazement as the full glory of the woman dawned upon her.

“Yes, Child,” She smiled. Her voice was a soothing contralto. Charlie felt tears spring to her eyes at the endearment.

“Thank you, My Lady. Thank you for your care of my children. Of me. We are eternally grateful. Please tell me how we can repay you for such kindness.”

“Your gratitude is appreciated, Dear One,” The goddess smiled at her, and her warmth was so genuine that Charlie felt one of the tears slip onto her cheek. “But you owe me no payment or boon. We do this at Loki’s behest.”

“Come now, Woman,” A sterner brunette woman waded through the water to join them. “Let me see those arms.” Charlie looked down to see that her bloody bandages were still wrapped around her forearms, their edges trailing in the rippling water.

“Are you Eir?” Charlie asked softly in amazement. What had been a waking nightmare was suddenly turning into her dream come true. Was she truly here among the Old Norse Goddesses?

“Yes, I am. And there is something not right about those wounds. They shouldn’t still be bleeding. Tell me how you came to have them.”

Charlie shrunk into herself at the question. She didn’t want anyone to know what she had done to keep her children alive. Drinking human blood was taboo even in Norse culture. Would her breaking of such a stricture mean her banishment from Asgard and her children? She crossed her seeping arms over her breasts and tried to hide them from the goddesses.

“Please, I had to do it,” She begged suddenly, the tears rushing down her cheeks now. “The children would have died otherwise. It was so cold, and they were so hungry…” She dropped her head and trailed off, humiliation stilling her tale.

“Midgardian, we offer no judgement,” Freya soothed, brushing a lock of hair from her forehead. “We only need to know the source of the wounds so we can treat them properly.”

“I used my Jotun knife,” Charlie said low after a long moment. “And the key to the cages before that. It was all I had.” She missed the meaningful gaze that passed between the two women over her bowed head.

“And where is this Jotun knife now?” Eir asked gently, but there was a thread of deep concern in her voice that made Charlie lift her head.

“It was in my belt,” She replied. “Why?”

“We will need it if we are to cure you of its magic.” Eir told her truthfully. Any Midgardian who had the strength of will to wield a Jotun knife on her own person deserved to be told the truth.

“It had magic? I didn’t know.” She exclaimed, sitting up in the bath. “Would the magic have extended to my children? Did it harm them?” She peeked anxiously around Eir to see how the bathing children fared.

“No, Child,” Freya reassured her. “Not unless you cut them with it too?”

“No! Gods, no!” Charlie assured them. “I didn’t even want to use the thing. It was just all I had.”

“Here, give me your arms,” Eir’s tone brooked no argument this time. Charlie obediently extended them for examination by the Aesir’s best healer. The goddess unwrapped them carefully, the bloody cloths unwinding into a stack that she placed on the side of the pool.

Charlie gasped at the sight of her own arms. The three long incisions and four deep puncture wounds running along her veins were puffy and swollen. Pus and blood streamed from the open lacerations. Deep bruises from where the children had sucked from her wrist and her forearm punctuated the deepest wounds.

“Go find the knife and prepare the poultices to draw the poison, Eir,” Freya directed grimly. Eir nodded solemnly and moved away.

“How bad is it?” Charlie asked in a small voice. She was worried. Her arms looked very bad indeed.

“We have the knife and Eir is the best healer in all of the nine realms. You will be fine,” Freya reassured her firmly. Charlie heard the edge of concern in the goddess’s voice but refrained from commenting. She and her children were receiving the best care in the world. She would not disrespect that gift by calling out Freya for sparing her the full truth.

“You were feeding them, weren’t you?” Freya asked solemnly, dragging one finger along a bite mark surrounding one of the puncture wounds. Charlie’s eyes darted up to meet the ancient gaze of the goddess of hearth and home.

“There was nothing for them to eat,” She explained sadly. “I couldn’t let them starve.”

“So you gave them Blood Gift. You are truly the Mother of these children.” Freya nodded and stood to depart. “Regain your strength, Mortal,” She said over her shoulder. “You are going to need it.”

_That_ didn’t sound good, Charlie thought with a shiver despite the hot water.

“Lady,” A woman’s voice interrupted before her thoughts could travel that dark path. “I am Hlin. I am here to bathe you and see you fed.”

“You also protect those who need saving,” Charlie replied quietly as Hlin began loosely wrapping her wounds with fresh white bandages. “Do I need saving, Hlin?”

“We all need saving at one time or another, Child,” Hlin replied obliquely and then smiled. “Right now you need saving from this Jotunheim filth that covers you from head to toe, and you are too weak to bathe yourself.” Charlie laughed despite herself.

“Very true, Hlin,” She smiled, thankful for the diversion. “Please, save me.”

Hlin set to work with a will and a scrub brush, diligently bathing her from her toes to her hair. Charlie frowned at the amount of her thick brown hair that seemed to come away under Hlin’s scrubbing fingers.

“Don’t worry, Midgardian. I will protect your hair as well,” Hlin teased gently. Charlie blushed. Her hair was her one vanity, and she had been caught out by the goddess.

By the time Hlin was done working her magic, the room had gone silent.

“Where have they taken the children?” Charlie asked, a thread of panic curling around her heart and squeezing.

“Don’t worry. Freya has ordered them to be fed and put to bed. They are safe now. You don’t need to worry so.” Charlie relaxed fractionally as Hlin helped her from the bath and wrapped her in a soft towel that seemed to instantly suck the excess moisture from her wet body. “You will see them soon. First you need to see Eir about your arms.”

“Of course,” Charlie nodded, taking a slow, calming breath. They were in Asgard now. They were safe. She could stop worrying about the children every waking moment. Hlin slid a sleeveless shift over her head and led her from the baths into a small room crowded with herbs and tinctures.

Eir stood at the edge of her work table, grinding a paste that smelled so foul that both Hlin and Charlie covered their noses and mouths. Eir looked up at them sternly.

“Jotun magic is a smelly, disgusting business,” She stated firmly. “And so is curing its effects. Sit, Midgardian.”

Charlie obeyed and laid her arms, palms up, on the table. Eir snipped away the wet bandages quickly and set them aside. They were already stained with red blood and yellow pus. Charlie’s eyes widened in alarm. She hadn’t even noticed how badly her wounds were seeping while under Hlin’s competent – perhaps even magical? – care.

“This is going to hurt, Mortal,” Eir warned her. And then she spread a huge scoop of the foul-smelling paste down her left arm. Charlie seized and jerked at the pain, forcing her arms to remain on the table even though she wanted to fling them away and wipe off the burning salve. Without pausing, Eir dosed her other arm, doubling the pain before Charlie could adjust to the first wave. She swayed and dropped her head, banging it on the table repeatedly to keep from jerking her arms off the tabletop. It felt like thousands of tiny spiders were in her veins, crawling and biting and eating away at the sensitive flesh. She screamed through clenched teeth, determined not to move and ruin all of Eir’s precious work.

Strong, cool hands suddenly landed on her shoulders, soothing and steadying her as she struggled through the pain.

“I’ve got you,” Loki murmured from behind her. She jerked in surprise at his deep, resonant voice, but didn’t lift her head. His strong fingers dug into her tense muscles, forcing them to relax despite the wretched pain, the coolness of his hands flowing into her shoulders and easing a bit of her suffering.

“You – You’re offering me succor,” Charlie gasped between panting breaths, realization dawning.

“I believe I took an oath to do so,” Came his amused reply and Charlie managed to huff a laugh between the waves of burning pain shooting up her arms. The coolness of his touch flowed down her arms and seemed to meet the pain somewhere near her elbow, keeping the crawling, burning sensations confined and bearable. Finally, finally the pain began to recede and Charlie was able to look up and examine her arms. After that much pain, she expected them to be bloody stumps.

Her arms were still there. But the salve had turned from a pale grey paste to a flaky black solid that cracked like burned skin.

“Good, the first step worked,” Loki observed, leaning his head over hers.

“The first part!” Charlie gasped in alarm.

“Jotun magic is dark sorcery, Charlie,” Loki explained, his breath puffing against her hair, his back against hers as he examined the flaking husks. “It will take both Eir and I to cleanse it from your system. Eir has done her part. Mine is next.” Charlie shivered hard, trapped somewhere between fear of the next step and the sudden thrill of having this god pressing against her body. He was cool and long and firm behind her, his strength seeping into her through the thin fabric of her shift. In the wake of her recent trauma the gentle touch was like a balm, calming and sensual and delightful.

Loki stood and came around the table to stand by Eir. Charlie immediately missed his cool body pressed against her hot flesh. She shook her head and cleared her thoughts. Could her body possibly have come up with a more inconvenient time to notice that Loki was virile?

“What are you going to do?” She asked Loki, focusing on the matter at hand.

“For once, I have the less painful part of a magical healing,” He chuckled as Eir glared at him. He nudged the goddess aside and slid the Jotun knife from a sheath on his belt. Charlie jerked involuntarily.

“From where I’m sitting, this doesn’t look like the less painful part,” She exclaimed, going stiff with fear.

“Trust me,” Loki smiled at her, his emerald green eyes twinkling.

“I’m sure you say that a lot, Trickster,” Eir huffed. She subsided when Loki turned his wry smile on her. Loki turned back to Charlie to explain.

“Eir’s salve has drawn the magic to the surface. Without a place to go it will just seep back into your body. But like calls to like, and the magic will recognize its source in the blade. With the proper incantations, the Jotun magic can be drawn back into the knife where it will remain ready for its next victim.”

“Sounds easy enough,” Charlie quavered as Loki lowered the deadly knife to her skin. She remembered how easily it sliced through her, the bite of its cold kiss. She forced herself not to tremble.

“Trust me, it is not.” He replied seriously as he sat before her. Both Eir and Hlin stepped back from the table, giving Loki plenty of space.

And then he began to chant in a voice and language that was the diametrical opposite of the beautiful singing she had heard in the bath. The syllables were rough and guttural and incomprehensible. They sounded vaguely like the Jotun had before they had given her access to Allspeak. The words made the light dim in the room and made the hairs on the back of her neck stand up. She could feel power gathering. Charlie held still as death, determined not to interrupt the frightening spell Loki was conjuring.

The knife began to glow. It took on the neon blue of Jotun magic. It took all of her courage not to flinch when Loki brought the knife edge down on the top of her left forearm.

Loki scraped the flaking black char from her skin as he continued to chant. Instead of crumbling from her skin and onto the table, the flakes lifted like iron shavings to the magnet that was the blade. Eyes wide with surprise, Charlie watched as pink, healthy skin was revealed with each slow centimeter the blade dragged down her arm. She could barely feel the press of the metal, just a sense of ease and relief as wellbeing began to flow into her arm. By the time he reached her wrist, all that was left were two pink vertical scars and a jagged horizontal one that marked where she had opened her vein with the key.

She looked up in surprise and realized that Loki was frowning now and flushed, his concentration intense as he moved to her other arm. The grotesque words continued to fall from his lips as he drew the blade down the second track of black grit. This time the blade went slower, the light in the room dimming further as the neon blue blade pulsed. The knife seemed to stutter on the deep puncture wounds she had gouged into her veins to feed the children that last, horrible night. After the blade passed she could see deep, red indentations left in her arm where the puncture wounds had been. The straight vertical slash still healed into a thin pink scar though as the blade finished its slow trek and sucked the last of the char into itself. Charlie fought the urge to sag with relief. She would not breathe easily until Loki finished this hellacious spell.

He clutched one hand on the knife’s hilt and wrapped the other around the blade as he continued chanting. Dark blood oozed a moment from where his fingers clutched the sharpened edge. But then that, too, disappeared and the spell ended with a rushing vortex of air that sucked into the knife. All went quiet and the light returned to Eir’s workroom.

Loki dropped the knife to the table as if it offended him to hold it.

“You are lucky, Midgardian,” Loki intoned, his voice flat. “The magic had worked its way deep inside you. It was not so willing to give you up.”

“That’s because she used it to make Blood Gifts,” Eir replied, her frown creasing her entire face.

“Yes,” Loki agreed. “That has magic of its own. The Jotun magic was eager to stay linked to that power.”

Charlie frowned at the exchange. This was the third time she had heard the term “Blood Gift” since she had been in Asgard. The term had never come up in all her years of study, not in Greek nor Roman, and certainly not in Norse mythology. She had only done what was necessary to keep the children alive. But then why were Loki, Freya, and Eir acting as if it was something more? She was about to ask Loki, but when her eyes flicked to his face she could see that he was pale and exhausted. The words stilled on her lips. She would ask another time.

“Thank you, My Lord,” She said formally instead. “I am grateful for your aid and succor in my time of need.”

“My oath is satisfied,” He replied solemnly, pushing away from the table and striding from the room.

 

Loki shut the door to Eir’s rooms and stormed to his own quarters in the palace.  He stalked angrily through his rooms and out onto his grand balcony.  He drew several deep breaths of the sweet garden air to clear the filth of the Jotun magic from his lungs. He would never tell Eir or Charlie, but that blade had been filled with an ancient, evil magic. Had the mortal not been quite so determined to save her children, she would have died from it. As it was they had only been moments away from the point of no return.

He pulled the blade from its sheath and studied it in the early morning sunlight. What in the nine realms had Brynjolf been planning? Laufey’s cloak had been a shocking enough find, but now this? An ancient, powerful blade desperate for blood? He almost wished that Charlie hadn’t killed all of the Jotun. He would dearly love to have a few moments alone with Brynjolf while he was in his full power and not shifted into some withered old man.

He should never have agreed to Odin’s sly plan. Slinking around in disguise was that old man’s specialty. His leaned towards deceit and treachery followed by a swift death or flight if he was caught out. His silver tongue had never failed to get him out safely when his plans had gone awry. This entire escapade would have ended differently if he hadn’t followed Odin’s plans but laid his own.

But then he would never have met that mortal. That round, determined little creature that had somehow managed to captivate him with her strength of will. He had found her compelling even as she slowly killed herself trekking through the Jotunheim wastelands. And that had been before he saw the cleaned up version of the woman. He hadn’t been prepared for that. Long, coffee brown hair curling down her back, round full breasts that were barely constrained by the shift Hlin had clothed her in. The intelligence burning brightly in her hawkish eyes as she watched every motion of his spell work. He felt his cock jump at the memory.

He growled and threw the sheathed blade into his quarters. He hated mortals. He did not lust after them.

Maybe he just needed to go find some willing handmaiden of Freya’s and go get laid tonight. It had been quite a while since he had indulged in a good bout of bed sport. But that was the problem: after millennia in Asgard, there was little that was fresh and new to be found. All of the interesting fucking to be had here he had had at least ten times over. Eating leftovers held little appeal. His last serious lover had been Angrboda, and look how _that_ had turned out. Daughter sent to Niflheim, son in chains until Ragnarok. He would keep his cock away from Frost Giants in the future. The novelty hadn’t been worth the heartache of having his children torn away from him.

And wasn’t that part of Charlie’s appeal as well? Such dedication to her children in the face of terrible odds. If Angrboda had had even half of Charlie’s motherly instinct, his children might still be free. And that little mortal had pulled six children through the snows of Jotunheim without complaint.

Enough! He railed and stalked into his quarters. He snatched up the knife and headed for his library. There were enough loose ends surrounding these children to occupy him for days. He would shut out that aggravating mortal with magical study. It never failed to soothe him.

 

It was midmorning by the time Charlie was sent to her new quarters. Now she was laying on the softest, whitest carpet she had ever known. The twin babies were wrapped in clean diapers and had enough energy to crawl around her, giggling when they stumbled into each other or pulled on a tuft of white fur that tickled them. The toddlers were snuggled next to her, one head pillowed on each of her thighs. Thea and Dominic were still sitting at the table, humming and doing little chair dances as they continued to devour the spread of fruit and meat and cheese laid before them.

Charlie simply luxuriated in the senses of health, well-being, and safety. Once the magic had been cleansed from her body, her own natural defenses kicked in. She was weak but starving. Shaky, but able to keep her balance while she walked. Now that her stomach was full of the most delicious food she had ever eaten, she could think of nothing that she wanted to do more than lounge with her family.

And these children were all her family now, she realized, looking from Thea and Dominic to the four children sprawled across the carpet. The most harrowing experience of their lives had laid the foundation for a new family.

But a family needed names. She couldn’t keep referring to the two year olds as “the twins” or the little ones as “the babies”. She would change that now, she decided.

“Sweethearts,” She asked, jiggling her legs a little. Two sets of eyes rolled up to meet hers. Heavens, but they looked almost exactly like Thea and Dominic had when they were that age.

“Do you have names, my dears?” She asked. The two hadn’t spoken at all yet, but given the circumstances that wasn’t surprising. Most toddlers did know their own names even if it took a master linguist to translate it from Toddler into English.

“Mumma!” The boy cried, lifting his arms for a hug.

“Mumma!” His sister echoed waving her hands to be included.

Charlie laughed and kissed their too-skinny hands as they waved in the air to hide her surprise. Why would these children be calling her their mother? Didn’t they have a mother of their own waiting for them back on Earth? But toddlers were easily confused. Likely they had only adopted the name that they heard the two older children use for her.

“No, not my name,” She clarified. “What’s your name?” She poked them each in their tiny little bellies and received giggles for her troubles.

“Bet!” Cried the girl, poking her own tummy and laughing when she tickled herself. “Bet!” She crowed again.

“Your name is Bette?” Charlie asked the girl slowly.

“No! BET!” She yelled, poking herself again. Charlie screwed up her eyes and tried to think in Toddler.

“Beth?” She asked carefully.

“Yes!” The girl crowed and clapped her hands. “Bet!”

“Okay, Beth it is!” Charlie clapped with her and turned her attention to her brother.

“And you, my fine man,” She cooed to the little boy, stroking his curly hair. “What is your name?”

“O-win,” He said clearly and carefully, screwing his eyes shut with the effort to speak clearly.

“Owen!” Charlie applauded him. “Owen! What a fine name for such a strong man.” She leaned over and kissed his chubby cheeks and then moved to do the same to Beth.

Two down and two to go, Charlie smiled and looked over at the crawling babies. She had no idea what their names were and they were too young to tell her. She frowned. This would be much harder. She was no good at names. Well, when in doubt, ask for help.

“Thea, Dominic,” She called over to her oldest. They were still eating like little savages. Half eaten pieces of everything were strewn across the tabletop. She rolled her eyes and was very grateful that she wasn’t going to have to clean up that mess. The children looked up from their feasting.

“The babies need names. Do you have any ideas?”

“Couch!” Crowed Thea with joy, clapping her sticky hands.

“Dummy!” Dominic added, recalling the name of his favorite pacifier.

Charlie howled with laughter.

“OK, maybe we will think on it,” She decided. The kids shrugged and went back to eating.

It wasn’t long before her eldest began to slow down on the food. Dominic yawned hugely around a slice of fruit, Charlie found an answering yawn work its way up her throat. She hadn’t actually slept since her arrival in Asgard and exhaustion suddenly hit her hard between the eyes. The twins lounging on her lap were taking long blinks themselves and the babies had slowed their rambling.

“How about a nap?” She suggested, expecting cries of ‘No!’ and ‘I’m not sleepy!’ from Thea and Dominic. But for once they didn’t complain. None of them had recovered from their ordeal in Jotunheim yet.

“Come on, My Loves,” Charlie sighed. She stood and wiped down Thea and Dominic with a wet cloth and urged them to the back of the suite they occupied. She expected the beds to be in that direction. It was more than time for a midday nap. She finished the cat bath and then went to pick up the babies, one in each arm.

“Owen? Beth? Can you follow me?” She asked as she moved from the bright sunlight of their living area to the bedroom. A sweet golden glow lit the room as they entered. Charlie took in the massive room with a start. She truly was in Asgard if this was how a guest room was apportioned.

The room was appointed as if out of a Disney Princess’s dream. Whites and golds and soothing shades of rose. A massive bed sat in the middle of the room covered in pillows and silks and furs that she had no doubt were softer than anything she had ever experienced on Earth. Smaller beds and two cribs surrounded the room at various points and a huge marble hearth that lay ready to be lit if the need arose. Golden curtains fluttered in the breeze from the open floor-to-ceiling window.

Thea and Dominic bounced onto the huge bed and began kicking pillows off of it, destroying its carefully laid beauty.

“Don’t you want to sleep in your own beds, Sweets?” She asked, longing for the ability to spread out on the huge mattress.

“No!” Beth cried, circling around the back of her legs. Owen was close behind. “Sleep Mumma!”

Charlie sighed and laid the two babies on the bed. She reached down and boosted Beth and Owen onto the high mattress.

One nap with them as a family, this time snuggled warm and safe, suddenly sounded like pure happiness to Charlie. She climbed into the bed with the children. The soft mattress reached up to greet her, and Charlie’s mouth cracked in a huge yawn. Yes, this would be fine. The kids spent several minutes kicking and shuffling to find the right positions along Charlie’s body as she stretched out with the babies pillowed on her breasts.

Sleep rose up to greet her in an instant.

 

Charlie came awake with a start. Her heart was hammering. Sweat sheathed her body as she gasped in fear. The cave was dark around her. Had the green fire gone out? Where was Loki? And the children? Were they alive? Where were they? She patted the hard ground around her, but then drew back when she realized she was in a bed.

Reality registered slowly in her panicked brain. They were safe in Asgard. She smoothed the bed carefully until she counted six warm mounds breathing softly around her. Her eyesight slowly adjusted to the starlight drifting in through the open window until she could see the children. They had wiggled and squirmed their ways to different areas of the massive bed and still slept soundly.

They had slept the day away and were well into the night from the looks of things. And it was no wonder. It would take days for the children to fully recover from their ordeal.

But Charlie was too full of anxiety to stay in bed any longer. She carefully extricated herself from the children and padded softly from the bedroom into the main room. It was brighter in here, the double doors leading to their balcony still open and letting the starlight spill in.  Charlie made her way on wobbly legs to the balustrade and wrapped her shaking hands tight on the railing.

Emotions clashed in her head and heart like a maelstrom. Terror, rage, panic, relief, grief – they were an amalgam trying to claw their way out of her chest. Vaguely she realized she was experiencing some form of post-traumatic stress. Too much loss, too much horror experienced in such a condensed period of time. Her brain had never had the chance to process any of it. And now all of the repressed emotions were vomiting themselves over and through her leaving her feeling battered and confused and twitchy.

Whatever this was – panic attack? Rage attack? – it wasn’t going to be improved by inaction. Her body thrummed with the need to move, to weep, to flee, to scream her fury, her grief, her loss into the night.

Asgard’s gardens lay spread beneath her. Steps led from the balcony into its night-lit beauty. Her eyes were blind to it. She just needed to run. Charlie raced down the stairs and into the cool night air, heedless of her bare feet as they slapped hard against the smooth marble of the path. If she ran hard enough, she just might outrun the demons chasing her.

 

Loki tipped the rest of the wine into his goblet and cursed when the bottle came up empty. He threw the decanter against the wall where it smashed with a satisfying crack. He conjured another bottle from his stash and continued to fill his cup.

His research had been anything but soothing. He stayed his hand from crushing the gold goblet with his fury. Brynjolf had been an ambitious fool indeed. Tracking the tale of Laufey’s cloak back to its origins revealed it had the power of making. Not of conjuring such as he did with his magic, but the power to create life from lifelessness. And with it came the reverse: it also had the ability, under the right circumstances, to take life. Not just kill, but pull a soul and capture it so it could find no home in Valhalla or with Hel. The life would cease to exist.

Which brought Loki to the blade. He was now certain that the blade was stolen from Thrym, the Jotun king. The blade was wrought with a hungry magic. Eager for souls. It didn’t just poison, it sucked the life of its victim’s back into itself to feed its power. That explained the difficulty he had extricating Charlie’s soul from the magic of the blade. What should have been a distasteful exercise of his dark arts had turned into a battle of wills at the end. The blade’s magic had dug its claws into those puncture wounds in the woman’s arms, using them as a direct conduit to draw her life’s energy. It had taken a massive amount of his own energy to force it to release its grip on the woman.

Creation magic. Death magic. Children. What was it about those children? Loki snagged his goblet and paced around his balcony, turning the problem around and around. Mortal children did not have souls strong enough to warrant the use of such magic. Which left only one option: the children were more than mortal. As frail and weak as they had been, as Midgardian seeming as they were, there was something more to them. Something that had sent Brynjolf on a path of destruction through Midgard in order to steal them. And Loki had unwittingly helped.

And that Midgardian woman? What did she know? Charlie had admitted that she was mother to at least two of the children. She knew their names, had raised them. What secrets was she hiding? What would it take to get them out of her?

She was clever and crafty, that one, especially for a mortal. She had taunted five Jotun into killing each other. Had killed at least one herself, furiously slicing its throat. She had dragged an oath from him that was more precise than even shrewd kings had managed to craft with the help of their trusted advisors. Had used the most ancient of magics to ensure the children’s survival, to bind them even closer to her. Had refused to give up on them no matter the suffering she was enduring. Even threatened him with her blade to protect them. What was she keeping from him?

The sound of running feet drew his attention. He leaned over his palatial balcony curiously.

And what do you know? There she was, the secret keeper herself, running through the gardens in the middle of the night as if death was on her trail.

 

Charlie ran. Her breath hitched hard in her lungs, her bare feet stung from slapping them hard on the cold marble. The pain was what she needed. Immediate. Distracting. Keeping the wolves at bay. An image of Seamus flashed in her mind, dead on the floor, his head smashed. She ran harder. Blue blood spraying as she killed. She breathed faster. Children dying of starvation and cold. She slammed her feet brutally into the stone. Anything. Just anything to keep the horror at bay.

“What have we here?” The deep, crooning voice from above brought her to a screeching halt. “A rabbit running through the gardens? At night?”

“Loki,” She gasped, bending at the waist and clasping her hands to her thighs as she caught her breath. She had a sudden hard thought of exactly how he could help her escape her living nightmare. Surely a God would be greedy in his lovemaking. Hard and fast and thoughtless. Painful enough to burn even the most horrific images from her brain.

“Yes, Rabbit,” His voice was harder now, colder. “Come up here.” Imperious.

Good. Angry Loki. Thoughtless Loki. A cold, hard, real diversion from her fulminating emotions. She didn’t even think, just turned and ran up the steps to his balcony.

It was bright up here. Lanterns lit the wide expanse of stone. Books and scrolls were discarded carelessly across a wide couch and table. Empty decanters lolled between them.

Drunk Loki. Even better.

She skidded to halt in front of the God. He was wearing a green robe that flashed in the firelight. A pale V of skin was revealed by the overlapping closure.

“What brings you out in the middle of the night?” His eyes were green and cold. His mouth was turned into a frown as he examined her from head to toe.

“You,” She gasped, chest still heaving.

And then she took the biggest gamble of her entire life.

She grabbed the robe at the bottom of its V and dragged him down to her, smashing her lips hard against his.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 


	4. Chapter 4

Loki watched the woman bound up the stairs. Her hair a dark, tangled mane that rippled down her back. Full breasts jiggling in what should not have been an enticing manner as she ran up to him. But, gods be damned, it was.

“What brings you out in the middle of the night?” He teased coldly. He had only a moment to take her in. The glisten of perspiration on her brow, the heaving of her chest, the outline of her nipples against the thin shift.

And then she was before him. He had her. He was going to grill her, force her secrets from her. Use magic if he had to…

“You.”

And she yanked him down hard, slamming her mouth into his.

Loki froze for barely a fraction of a second. His cock jumped at the unexpected brutality of her kiss, the need he could feel coming off of her in waves. And then he was kissing her back, mouth open, teeth biting at her lips to let him into her mouth.

She more than obliged. The shove of her tongue into his mouth was demanding, almost violent. A swirl of hatred and pain and need. Loki’s temper rose to meet hers. How dare this mortal dictate to him? He would show her what it meant to fuck a God. He grasped two fistfuls of her hair and bent her back until he could feel her spine resist. And then he tugged a little farther.

There was pleasure mixed in with her gasp of pain and Loki rode it, spreading her lips, spearing her mouth with his tongue, biting at her. She didn’t miss a beat. She wrapped a leg around his thigh, arching into him. She bit him back, drew blood.

He growled and lifted her, cupping the globes of her ass. She gripped his hips tightly with her thighs in response, heels digging into his legs, arms twining across his shoulders and delving into his hair. All the while kissing him with a primordial need that had him hard and hot and desperate in less than thirty seconds.

It was but a few long strides to the cool stone wall. He pinned her there, hands braced on either side of her head as he ravaged her.

She took advantage of the leverage of the wall and pushed her hips into his, pressing against his cock, making desperate mewling sounds as she tried to fuck him through their clothes. He obliged her, using one hand to push her shift out of the way and then part his own robe.

He grasped his cock, desperate for the feel of her slick heat surrounding him. He shoved into her with one brutal, guided thrust and she screamed.

Loki paused in surprise. She was barely moist, certainly not ready for his cock even though it was now buried deep within her.

 

“No!” Charlie howled when Loki paused. The pain lanced through her and it was perfect. Heavenly. Exactly what she needed to forget. She dragged her mouth from his and speared his shocked green eyes with hers.

“Don’t stop!” She commanded, pulling a hank of his hair hard enough that she was sure that even a god would notice. “Don’t. Stop.”

He obeyed, pulling his hips back and spearing her again, deeper.

Charlie’s scream was pain tinged with pleasure this time. Loki was enormous, stretching her, filling her so completely she thought she might split in two from his girth. It was glorious. She ground down to meet him, pulling air through clenched teeth in quick pants. Forcing her body to adjust to him.

He didn’t give her any time. Just pulled back again and plunged his cock back into her body.

“Is this what you want?” He snarled at her, eyes flashing as he set a punishing rhythm. He pulsed within her, and Charlie whimpered as a spear of pure ecstasy rippled through her. Each thrust was less pain and more pleasure, the balance tipping as he continued to mercilessly drive into her.

What had started as searing, skin-tearing pain was turning into liquid ecstasy as her body wept for him. Each thrust was now a glide of delicious skin on skin sending sparks shooting up her abdomen and through her thighs. Her muscles clamped down on him hard, a precursor to the orgasm building in her belly.

Loki growled and pushed harder, faster, his cock expanding in girth, drawing more heat from her, more wetness, more pleasure. She was panting hard, moaning harder, balanced on a knife’s edge, waiting for that one perfect thrust to drive her over the edge.

And he gave it to her, slamming his body hard and deep, and she was falling, crying, screaming, riding the surges of rapture as her pussy clenched in time to Loki’s furious thrusting.

He was holding her hips with one hand and pounding the stone wall with the other. Loki beat the marble so hard that it shattered with a loud crack. His hips surged desperately against hers at the same time, and Charlie felt his cock jerk and spasm inside her. His orgasm hit hard, heralded by a guttural cry as he stiffened against her, his fingers bruising her hip as he clutched her hard to him.

 

Loki leaned his head against the cracked stone wall, surprised that a mere mortal had taken his breath away. He took long, deep breaths in an effort to bring order to his shattered senses. That had been… spectacular. Not even Angrboda, whose strength nearly equaled his own, had ever driven him to such a high as this small, mortal woman just had. He had gone senseless there at the end, pounding her with a strength that might have shattered her.

“Do you yet live?” He asked gently. He looked down at the brunette waves of her crown. Her forehead was lying limply against his chest.

Laughter shook her, sending delightful aftershocks through her body and into his.

“I live,” She confirmed. He could hear the smile in her voice. “Though I may be walking like I’ve been riding a horse for the next few days.”

“Blame Sleipnir,” He laughed, gently easing away from her. He wasn’t quite ready to disentangle himself completely from her body so he gathered Charlie up and walked over to the couch. He sat carefully, leaving her astride his lap. He reached for the decanter of wine and tipped it to her lips. She drank several greedy sips before shaking her head for him to take it away. He followed her lead, the sweet wine sliding down his throat and clearing his thoughts.

He had called her up here for a reason, he recalled. Her distraction had been neat and effective, but it would not keep him from his goal. He had a mystery to untangle, and this woman was right in the center of it.

“Tell me about your children,” He asked as he set the bottle down.

“They are doing well. All six of them,” She replied quizzically. If this was Asgardian pillow talk, she was deeply disappointed.

“No, I don’t mean all six of them. I mean your blood children,” Loki corrected her. “Thea and Dominic. Is there anything unusual about them? Was there anything unusual about their birth?”

Her deep frown puzzled him.

“They aren’t my biological children, if that is what you mean,” She clarified carefully. “And no, they are normal rambunctious three year olds. I don’t know anything about their births.”

Loki sat up straight, nearly tumbling her from his lap.

“Not your…”He frowned at her, a thousand thoughts flickering across his stern visage. “What do you mean?”

“I mean that we,” And Charlie’s breath hitched as she stuttered over a ‘we’ that no longer existed. “We adopted them. When they were three weeks old. They were abandoned by their biological parents.”

“So they are not of your blood?” Loki pondered.

“No, but they are the children of my soul,” She countered, offended by his insinuation that Thea and Dominic were somehow less than her own just because they were adopted. She moved to crawl off his lap.

“Peace, Charlie,” He said, grasping her hips lightly. “I meant no insult. All of the children are yours. Only a fool would deny you the title of Mother.”

“Then why do you ask?” She countered, brows pulled down into a hawkish glare.

“Because I fear for them,” Loki replied seriously.

Charlie shivered as cold fingers walked down her spine.

“Please, can we do this with me not in your lap?” She pushed against him, uncomfortable with the turn the conversation had taken. He didn’t stop her as she slid away but merely conjured a soft cloth and handed it to her. He got up and strode to the balcony, giving her the privacy needed to clean up.

When she was finished she joined him at the balustrade.

“Why do you fear for my children, Loki?” She asked calmly, her tone belying the fear that was crawling at the edges of her brief peace. Would she and the children never be safe? Not even in Asgard?

“Because your cloak and knife contain powerful magic,” Loki explained. “The cloak was Laufey’s own, made be her hand. I believe the knife is Thrym’s. And because the Jotun went for those children specifically when I opened the portal to Midgard.”

“You!” Charlie exhaled in shock. “ _You_ opened the portal that allowed the Jotun to steal my children? Kill my husband?” She pushed him hard, but he was a God and did not move.

“I had no idea what they were after,” He said by way of apology. “Odin had a premonition that the Jotun were planning something dangerous to the nine realms. Something that would bring Ragnarok about early. He sent me as his emissary.”

“You, you – ass!” She hurled, stepping away from him. “You are the cause of all of this? All of our pain? Our suffering? It was _you_?”

“If it hadn’t been me, they would have found another way,” Loki tried to reason with her. But he knew now that he was no longer dealing with Charlie. He was dealing with the primeval force of Mother. “And I might not have been there to save you.”

“ _Save us???”_ Charlie was livid now. “You caused this.”

“No, I prevented it from being worse,” Loki insisted.

“I can’t hear this right now,” Charlie fumed. And without a backward glance she took off down the balcony steps and ran for her rooms.

 

Dawn was creeping over Asgard by the time Charlie finally made it to her suite. She hurried the last few hundred yards, afraid that the children were awake and crying for her.

She ran up the steps and took a few deep breaths to compose herself before entering the rooms. She didn’t hear any crying, and she wasn’t going to start it by tearing into the place like a bat out of hell.

Damn these arrogant Asgardians! She thought as she tried to blow out her fury. They did as they pleased without any thought to the consequences that mortals might suffer. They all did, whether they be Zeus or Jupiter, Odin or Loki. The last left a bitter taste in her mouth. And she had always loved the Tricksters best. Here’s a joke for you: have an angry fuck and then learn that the god you took your anger out on caused all your problems to begin with. Hahaha!

Babbling met her ears and Charlie pushed those thoughts away. Time to focus on the children and whatever harrowing event that was about to befall them next. They were mortals among gods. No mortals ever came out of their dealings with them unscathed.

Charlie parted the gold curtains and stepped into the salon. Breakfast had been laid out and two women were tending to the babies. She recognized Hlin, and was introduced to Fulla. Ah, Freya’s confidante, Charlie thought warily. Freya was keeping watch over her.

Please, let that one goddess be on my side, she beseeched no one in particular. When gods were real, who did one call on?

“Charlie!” Hlin greeted her with real warmth. “The babies are up, but the others are still asleep. Did you go for an early morning walk?”

“Something like that,” She managed around the pit that formed in her stomach. More like an early morning betrayal. Father of Lies. Dammit. Of course that was how it had worked out.

“We have clothes for you and the children,” Fulla informed her. “Odin holds court this morning and he wants to see you all.”

“Odin All-Father wants to see us?” Charlie squeaked. That was not good. She had fallen for Loki Silvertongue hook, line, and sinker. How was she to fare against the head of the Norse pantheon? “Why?” She asked cautiously.

“Why? Because of your unusual tale, of course,” Fulla beamed, but Charlie noticed Hlin making silent signs of warding over the babes as she changed them. Maybe Hlin would make one over her as well if she asked nicely? She may need it.

“Hlin,” Charlie called over Fulla’s shoulder when she was finished with the babies. “Can you wake the other children for me as well? I’m famished.” To make truth of her lie and give Hlin time to ward the other children, she plopped herself down before the morning feast and heaped fruit, meat, and cheese on her plate.

And it turned out she was starving. Freezing cold, blood loss, and a brush with deadly magic was hard on the body. Charlie would need her wits in top form is she was to meet Odin All-Father at his court though. She made sure to eat just enough to fill her belly, but not so much that she wound up in a food coma.

Thea, Dominic, Beth, and Owen tumbled from the room with Hlin behind them. Hlin shared a secret smile with her, and Charlie breathed a sigh of relief. Mission accomplished.

It took the hard work of all three women to see the children fed, bathed, and clothed. Charlie was grateful for the help. From a tactical perspective, she wouldn’t wish three sets of twins on her worst enemy. How was she going to manage to feed, clothe, and care for this brood once she was back on Earth? If she got back to Earth, she amended solemnly. Chances were looking slim if even Loki was worried for her children’s safety. She hoped Hlin’s wards helped.

“Your turn,” Fulla bowed low before her. Charlie was whisked through a bath and dressing before she even got the words “I can do this myself” out of her mouth. And it was a good thing too. Before she knew it, she was being trussed into a golden brown gown with so many hooks and eyes she would have given up halfway through and gone to see Odin in her shift.

She insisted that they leave her hair in a simple braid. She was technically a widow in mourning. There was no need for ostentation here. Some part of her was tempted to follow the old ways and crop her hair to the scalp in mourning. If she thought it would do anything to sway Odin’s opinion, she would have. But Odin was wise. He would not be swayed by tears and a haircut. She would have to do better than that.

She could do better than that, she realized, recalling her recent conversation with Loki.

“Hlin, are my robe and knife here?”

“Yes, Lady,” Hlin replied. “They are in the bedroom.”

“Good. I want them for my meeting with Odin All-Father.”

She would set her grievances aside for now and start thinking like the classics professor she was. The gods did not hold to the same moral code as mortals. That had been documented time and again throughout history. If she held onto her rage at what she perceived to be unjust treatment, and it was unjust by mortal standards, she would be clouding her judgement. She had to think like a god. Otherwise all would be lost. She would be just another mortal crushed under the heels of the gods. For her children’s sake, she must not let that happen.

Charlie folded the robe carefully and put it into a leather satchel the handmaidens brought at her request. She put the knife in its plain sheath in the belt at her waist. It looked ragged and out of place against her fine dress, but that was entirely intentional. She had plans for the knife and wanted Odin’s court to notice it. Her mind was working furiously, running through all she knew of Odin. Warlord, scholar, poet. Wise beyond any other god in the pantheon. A watcher of Midgard, his crows bringing him word of events happening in all the realms. It was likely that he knew more of her children’s history than she did.

And this “Blood Gift” that Loki, Freya, and Eir had mentioned? How could she use it to her advantage? If only she understood exactly what it was, then she could plan how to use it. For now she would keep it in the back of her mind, ready to use if the need arose.

Charlie eyed her brood critically as they readied to leave for Odin’s court. The babes were held by Hlin, dressed in gold. The little girl’s hair had been done up in two adorable ponytails atop her head. The boy was solemn in his finery, dark eyes watching the world as if he knew more than a child should. Beth and Owen were dressed in silver. Beth’s hair styled to match her baby sister’s and Owen’s mop of curls trimmed neatly so they bore no signs of the dreads he had started to incur during their trek. Finally she looked to Thea and Dominic. Her heart swelled with pride. They stood out from among the other children. They stood tall in their fiery red finery, small adults ready to face the gods. Thea’s pixie haircut allowed for no pigtails, but that only made her look more delicate with her high cheekbones and bow mouth. Dominic’s Mohawk stood at bristling attention. It made him look fierce, and for the first time Charlie saw the fine man he was going to become.

Finally, she turned to herself. The long mirror showed a hawk-nosed, serious woman. Their adventure had slimmed her waist, pulled even smaller by the stays of the dress. The golden brown of the dress flattered her hair and hazel eyes. She would never be a great beauty. But she looked formidable with the knife at her hip and the satchel slung cross-wise across her body. She would do. She didn’t want to be beautiful for this meeting. She wanted to be judged by her wit and her actions.

And then they were off to Odin’s court. Hlin with the babes, Fulla leading Beth and Owen, and Charlie holding Thea’s and Dominic’s hands. She was proud of her brood, of herself. They had been through Jotunheim hell and survived. She didn’t think any mortals could say the same.

 

The enormous doors to Odin’s throne room were of stout oak inlaid with gold swirls and glittering with jewels. They swung open as the group approached, and Charlie stifled a thrill of nerves with a deep breath. This was it. Showtime. She had to do well before Odin and his court if she were to keep them all safe.

The room was huge, built in the Old Norse tradition of high wooden beams slanting across the high ceiling. But that was where the similarity to a Midgardian throne room ended. The wood was polished to such a sheen that it glowed in the sunlight spilling through the many windows. The floor was black-veined marble that echoed their footsteps throughout the hall. Magical tapestries, the figures moving within the scene, depicted battles that she recognized from her studies.

And then there was the court itself, raised high on a dais at the end of the long hall. Charlie named the gods quietly to herself as they made their way forward. Tyr, one-handed but still noble, god of honor and bravery in battle sat on the far left. Heimdall, his eyes glittering with the sight that enabled him to keep watch tirelessly across all the land was on the far right. Her heart jumped a little as she recognized Loki sitting at Freya’s right hand. He was sneering as they made their way forward. Was he sneering at her, or was this just his normal expression when forced to sit in Odin’s presence? She suspected it was the latter.

Thor, god of thunder and fertility, sat at his father’s left hand. He was beautiful and captivating, his great hammer, Mjolnir, resting beside his throne. Holy hell, Charlie thought with a spike of admiration. No mortal depiction could ever do justice to the nobility of this god. He did indeed look like the only being in the nine realms capable of wielding that mighty hammer.

In the center of the gathering sat Freya All-Mother and Odin All-Father. Gone was the kindly woman who had taken care of her in the bath. In her place sat a queen, regal and beautiful.

And then there was Odin. Charlie’s heart squeezed, and she trembled before him. The power flowing off of this being was humbling, and she finally understood the word ‘awe’ in its truest sense. Despite the long gray hair and beard, he was still a warrior in his prime. His fiery tunic revealed bulging muscles as it stretched over his barrel chest. He wore an eyepatch covering the socket where he had sacrificed his eye at Mymir’s spring in order to gain wisdom. His crows, Huginn and Muninn perched on his throne ready to fly at his command. The wolves, Geri and Freki, lounged at his feet. Charlie gripped Thea’s hand harder for a moment in an attempt to warn the girl from squealing and rushing up to pet the “doggies”.

Odin’s one eye examined Charlie and her brood. It took all of her will not to quail before the great All-Father, the strength of will and intelligence behind that one eye leaving her feeling small and meaningless before his power.

“Midgardians,” He intoned and his voice was booming thunder. “You are here today to stand in judgement before this court. Your fate will be determined this day.” Charlie’s heart sank. As she had feared, this was no mere introduction. Their very lives were at stake. But she had come prepared. She would put on the performance of her lifetime to save her children.

“Odin All-Father,” Charlie bowed low before him, gently tugging Thea and Dominic with her. “We are small mortals before you and your wisdom. We thank you for your hospitality and care during our stay in Asgard. Before you deliver your judgement, this Midgardian would like to offer you a small token of her gratitude.”

Odin’s one eye widened fractionally. Charlie may have managed to surprise the God with her gesture.

“You may proceed,” He commanded, a thread of curiosity in his booming voice.

Charlie took a deep breath and let go of the children’s hands. Carefully, she undid the clasp of the large satchel at her hip and pulled out the glorious cloak she had taken from Brynjolf. Its magic had kept it pristine despite the hard times it had seen in Jotunheim. The ermine trim shone brightly in the sunlight, the blue of the fur glowing with a light of its own now that it was no longer hampered by the darkness of Jotunheim.

A collective gasp went up from the gods of the court, and Charlie suppressed a smile of satisfaction. Yes, this gift was indeed priceless and worthy of Odin if what Loki had said to her was true. She approached the dais on sure feet and knelt on the bottom step, lifting the heavy cloak aloft for Odin.

“I present to you Laufey’s Cloak, wrought by her own hand and having the power of creation.” She knew even the most obscure of Norse stories. There could be only one cloak that belonged to Laufey that would merit Loki’s attention. From the sound of the court, she had guessed its origin correctly.

Odin reached down with one powerful hand and lifted the heavy cloak as if it weighed as much as a feather.

“How came you to be in possession of such a prize, Midgardian?” Odin asked, a frown creasing his brow as he examined it carefully.

“I slew the Jotun who had it in his possession.” She announced clearly so that the entire gathering would hear. “I claimed his belongings for my own. This treasure belongs with you, Odin All-Father. Only you have the wisdom to wield it.”

“You slew a Jotun, Woman?” Came Tyr’s sonorous voice.

“No, I slew two,” Charlie clarified proudly, arising from the step and turning to the god. “And wounded a third.” She didn’t miss Loki’s sly smile before he returned to his sneering. Good, if she was pleasing the God of Mischief, than she was on the right track this day.

“Were they sleeping?” Thor’s booming laugh filled the room. Charlie felt blood rush to her face as Tyr chuckled and Odin smiled.

“No. I slew them in battle, O God of Thunder,” She turned to him, bowing low for a moment to regain her composure. No weakness could be shown here. And if the battle had been between the Jotun themselves, there was no need to mention that tiny tidbit right now. She had caused the battle, after all. She would take the credit.

“With what, your sharp tongue?” Thor laughed again. This time the other gods joined in as well. Fine, Charlie bolstered herself. Let Thor be an arrogant ass. He was playing right into her hands.

“No, with this knife,” She pulled it, still sheathed, from her belt. She held it balanced on her upraised palms.

“May I present another gift, Odin All-Father?” She asked respectfully. He nodded, his one eye squinting in curiosity. He was surely wondering if her second gift would be as profound as the first. And it would be, just not in the way that he expected.

“You may, Woman,” Odin conceded. Good, she had been upgraded from “Midgardian”. That was a start.

Charlie turned and strode confidently around the steps of the dais, coming to kneel on the bottom step. She was at Loki’s feet. She raised the knife up to him on her palms. A ripple of shocked surprise ran through the room. She knew of no lore that told of Loki receiving tribute. She may have just committed a first in all of Norse mythology. She desperately hoped that was so. She needed to stand out from any other mortal who had come to these halls before her. She was no great warrior, but she was clever and knowledgeable. Those were the weapons she would use to win this day.

Now was the tricky part. Norse mythology was staggeringly unclear as to what the respectful term for Loki was. There might not even be one. She decided to be blunt.

“O Loki. I know that you were on an errand for Odin All-Father when you came upon us as The Wanderer in Jotunheim, but it was you who led us to safety in Asgard. Please, accept this gift of Thrym’s knife as a sign of our gratitude.”

The increased murmuring of the gods behind her receded as she raised her eyes to Loki, her gaze calm and steady. This was neither the time nor the place for blame. She was fighting for their lives. She hoped he played along.

“I accept your gratitude and your gift as full repayment for my services, Woman,” Loki replied solemnly, his sneer gone. But his green eyes sparkled for just a moment as he lifted the knife from her hands. She bowed low and returned to stand in front of Odin.

“Odin All-Father, we beg for your mercy this day. We have no idea what offense we could have committed that merits your judgement, but we are sure of your wisdom and knowledge. We will accept whatever punishment you deem fit to deliver.”

Odin’s one eye seemed to soften as he studied her closely.

“What is your name, Woman?” He asked.

“Charlemagne Rosetta Black.” She replied, straightening her shoulders. If Odin wanted to know her name, then she had impressed him. Perhaps there was a chance to stay whatever judgement was at hand. Perhaps she would at least learn what they were being judged _for_.

“Charlemagne Rosetta Black, you are knowledgeable and respectful of the ways of this court.” Odin praised her. “You gift wisely, if unusually, to us. Under other circumstances your acts would have won you a boon from me. But you are not the one standing for judgement this day. It is the orphans who have been brought for execution.”

“What?” Charlie gasped. There were so many things wrong with that statement that her brain struggled to process it. The children? Orphans? _Execution?_ It was incomprehensible.

“Odin All-Father, may this Midgardian ask what offense such small children have committed?” She barely kept the trembling from her voice. Parse this out, she told herself. Unravel this one thread at a time. Maybe there was still a way to save the children if she kept her head.

“They are a danger to the nine realms. Their very existence is an abomination.” Odin announced forcefully.

“That cannot be,” Charlie insisted, dropping all protocol as her anger took root and spread through her chest. She had dragged these children through hell, been mother to Thea and Dominic since birth. She would not stand for anyone, even the All-Father, hurting her children. “They are not abominations. They are babies. What possible offense can they cause by merely living?”

“Tread lightly, Charlemagne,” Odin warned her angrily. “You are only here by my mercy. Even sheltering these creatures is an offense that I am overlooking because of your ignorance. It would have been better if you had left them to freeze to death in Jotunheim.”

“You would ask a mother to abandon her children?” She accused in horror. She looked desperately to Freya for help. She was goddess of hearth and home. Surely she would understand a mother’s position. Freya was frowning deeply, but Charlie couldn’t tell whether it was because of Odin’s proclamation or her disrespect.

“You are not mother to these children,” Odin shot back, slamming the butt of his great spear on the floor for emphasis. “They have no true mother.”

“Odin,” Freya spoke up at last. “She gave them Blood Gift while in Jotunheim. Eir and Loki can attest to it. She used Thrym’s blade.”

Odin visibly paled at the statement and turned from his wife to Charlie.

“You bound them to you, heart and soul?” Odin asked aghast.

“I fed them my blood to keep them from starving to death in Jotunheim,” Charlie elucidated cautiously. Was this what they all meant by blood gift? Had she accidentally invoked some ancient ritual while trying to keep the children alive?

“The Norns did not foresee this,” Odin stated thoughtfully. “They only saw that these motherless children would bring Ragnarok down upon us all.”

“I will bring Ragnarok down upon you all,” Loki piped up merrily. “Not half a dozen sniveling orphans.” His scorn for the children dripped from his words.

“They are not motherless orphans,” Charlie insisted heatedly, spinning from Odin to Loki and back. “ _I_ am their mother.”

“Aye, Midgardian, you are.” Odin agreed solemnly. “You made certain of that when you invoked the ancient magic.”

Charlie frowned thoughtfully, trying to regain her composure. What did all of this mean? Were the children out of danger now? Had she broken the foreseeing of the Norns with her actions? What exactly had she done?

“Odin All-Father, Freya All-Mother,” She asked respectfully. “Please tell me how I invoked ancient magic. What is a Blood Gift?”

“You shared your life source, your blood with these children. Blood drawn by a Jotun blade.” Freya explained kindly. “That sharing of yourself in order to save their lives invoked the very magic of the making of Midgard. As Ymir’s body and blood was used to birth the realm, so you changed the lives of these children by giving of yourself. You added to them, made them your own. You are now the mother of these children.”

“And are they still abominations?” She dared to ask. She would not rest until she knew her children were safe.

“I do not know,” Odin admitted, looking suddenly tired. “I do not know if you have saved us from Ragnarok or brought it about more quickly. Stop smiling, Loki!” Odin snapped and turned back to her. “Bring the children to me. Let me see these troublesome creatures for myself.”

Hlin and Fulla stepped forward, but Charlie blocked them bodily.

“Do you still intend to execute them?” She demanded fiercely.

“No, Mother. Not for now,” A bit of a smile tugged at his lips. “You are a fierce creature indeed. I only want to see for myself what the Norns are wailing about.”

Charlie stepped aside and brought Thea and Dominic forward with the others. Her palms were sweaty and shaky as she released a long, deep breath. She had done it. She had saved her children. At least for the moment. She had no idea what her children were nor did she care. It was enough to know that they were hers.

Her inattention brought the actions of three year olds upon her. They had had enough of standing around while adults talked over their heads. The moment her hands loosened from Thea’s and Dominic’s, the children sprinted forward.

“Doggies!” They both cried in joy and leapt at Geri and Freki. Beth and Owen broke from Fulla to join them, all four children piling on Odin’s wolves with squeals of delight. Both Charlie and Odin moved to fling the children from harm’s way, but the animals had other ideas.

The wolves rolled onto their backs and presented their bellies for rubbing, tongues lolling in delight as the children began to scratch in earnest. Giggling and whooping filled the throne room as the children rolled in a pile with the wolves.

Odin burst out into a deep belly laugh at the sight, and Charlie buried her face in her hands in embarrassment. Yes, these were her children.

 

Loki laughed loud and long, but not at the children as the other gods did. He laughed because Charlie – Charlemagne, a much better name for the woman – had just out-Odined Odin using a combination of wit, knowledge, and ferocity. He laughed at Odin’s and the Norns’ futile attempts to forestall Ragnarok. Ragnarok would come when it came, whether that be tomorrow or ten thousand millennia from now. He would be leading it when it did, and there was nothing they could do to stop that.

Odin called for food and wine. A celebration was in order with an execution forestalled. Odin would have taken no pleasure from slaughtering six children even if they were abominations. There was no honor in that. With the prophecy broken – the children were no longer motherless – there was no reason to kill them.

But that didn’t mean there wouldn’t be in the future. The Norns were fickle and obscure in their prophecies. Who knew what they would utter next?

Loki slipped away from the rapidly assembling feast. He had work to do and no stomach for the company of arrogant Aesir. His time would be better spent trying to solve the mystery of the children’s origins.

“Loki!” Charlie’s voice followed him down the corridor. He stopped and turned on his heel.

“Do you not have children to be attending, Mother?” He asked coldly. She stopped before him and tilted her chin up to meet his eyes, unfazed by his dismissal of her.

“They have been adopted by the Aesir for the moment,” She laughed up at him. “When I left, Dominic was trying to lift Mjolnir, and Beth was trying to figure out how Heimdall can see by poking at his eyes.”

Even Loki couldn’t help but smile for a moment at those images. But then his anger snapped firmly back into place.

“And yet you seek out the company of the one who caused all of your misfortune?” He asked deliberately. He did not like to admit it, but she had struck a nerve with her accusations last night. He had as little heart for hurting children as Odin. Yet he had, as she so bluntly pointed out, opened the portal that had resulted in the kidnapping of her children. “If I had not interfered…”

“If you had not interfered, who knows what my children would have become?” She finished his sentence carefully. “When Odin called them ‘motherless’ I do not believe he meant that they were simply orphaned. I think he literally meant that they have no mother. They lack that progenitor in the way that other beings do.”

“So you seek me out?” He asked callously. “What do you think I can do?”

“I think that you know more about Ragnarok and magic then the rest of the Aesir combined,” She retorted quickly. “I think you are off to find out what my children really are. I want to find out with you.”

“And if I demand a price?”

“Demand it. I will meet it.” She riposted. Loki laughed scornfully and crowded into her personal space. She didn’t move, just craned her neck farther back so she could continue meeting his emerald eyes. Daring Mortal, Loki thought. He loved that about her.

“I want you,” He demanded, his chest now brushing hers. They were alone in the hall. He wouldn’t have cared if they weren’t.

“You’ve had me,” She replied boldly.

“Oh no,” He sighed, a slow smirk crossing his lips as they ducked closer to hers. “I had a woman in pain looking for a distraction. I had a woman use me. I want more than that.”

Her lips parted and she licked them thoughtfully. Purposefully.

“After we find out what my children are, you may have whatever you wish,” She conceded.

“Agreed. But first a kiss to seal the deal.”

 

Charlie had only a moment before Loki’s lips met hers. She was about to steel herself for another assault like last night’s, but instead soft, velvety lips met hers, clung to hers. His mouth breathed her in, tasting her. Taunting her with the promise of a thousand erotic nights as his tongue slid along her lower lip in a sweeping caress. She went still with shock, and he pulled away just slightly.

“Did you think that a god would have no appreciation for the finer things in life?” His breath puffed softly against her moist lips. She swayed a bit toward him with an aching desire to taste him more.

“No. I didn’t,” She admitted breathlessly. “Gods are arrogant. I thought you would just take what you want.”

“Oh, I will,” Loki promised her, still leaning close enough that she could feel the cool strength of his body. “And what I want is for you to come completely undone for me.”

Charlie shivered hard, imagining the smooth caress of those lips along the rest of her body. She had no doubt that he would do as he said. He tipped her chin with his long fingers and placed another soft kiss on her lips.

“Poor Mortal, only seeking the bitter when she could have had the sweet as well.” And with that he pulled away from her.

“Come now, we have work to do.”

 

Charlie huffed as she brought yet another stack of scrolls and books from Loki’s library and dropped them on his desk. Loki was furiously moving from scroll to book to scroll, the lantern light turning his hair blue-black. Ugh, she had forgotten how boring it was to _watch_ someone do research. She wanted to be in the thick of things, reading the ancient scrolls herself, piecing together the information. It was no fun to just watch.

“Can’t you improve your spell?” She complained as she shook the dust from her arms. He had spelled her so she could read basic words in all the ancient languages of the nine realms. It made her an excellent librarian. She could find just about anything in his crammed but organized library by now. But it made her a shitty scholar. All of the texts that were in the ancient runic languages that she could read Loki considered to be too “modern” to have any information of worth.

“Improve it how?” Loki didn’t even look up from the scroll he was reading.

“Expand my vocabulary,” She suggested, frustrated. “I’m a classics professor,” She exclaimed. “I get off on reading esoteric texts containing obscure facts. This is my thing. I can help you here.”

“There is no spell that can make you able to read all of the ancient languages in the nine realms,” Loki repeated for the twentieth time, rolling his eyes. “If you keep asking, I can make it so you can’t read at all.”

“Great help I’d be to you then,” She huffed back.

“You could still bring me more wine,” He shot back, tipping his empty goblet.

“Argh! You’re an ass!” She exclaimed and went to get the decanter.

 

Charlie returned to Loki’s rooms much later. The children were snoring happily away in the big bed now, bellies filled with enough food to make a dent in the never ending hunger they had exhibited since their arrival in Asgard. She had petted and cooed and snuggled with them until they fell asleep, all the while wondering what odd twist fate had in store for them. She didn’t care what they were from a motherly perspective. They could all be Brynjolf’s whelps, and it wouldn’t change how she felt about them a bit. But objectively she had to think about their futures.

These children would grow up. They would want to know where they came from and who their biological parents were. It was natural. As an adoptive parent, Charlie had prepared for that day ever since Thea and Dominic arrived. But these children had an added layer of complexity. They may or may not be mortal. They may or may not have powers or inclinations that would lend them to destruction. She had to know how to parent for them to grow into themselves as smoothly as possible. Hell, if they were going to bring Ragnarok, then they were going to be the best damned Ragnarok-bringers ever if she had her say in the matter.

With that thought in mind, Charlie slipped into Loki’s rooms via the open balcony doors. He was in the main room now, the pile of books and scrolls substantially condensed from the stacks he had started with in his study. The room was lit with so many lanterns it was like daylight.

Why did the Asgardians use fire when they could be using magic, or, say, electricity? She wondered. They certainly had access to the knowledge. But that was for a later conversation.

“Any progress?” She asked instead.

“Hrmmm,” Loki answered. “I am down to thirty ancient Jotun scripts and a dozen genealogies. I think I’m getting closer. I have a theory.”

“What can I do?” Charlie asked, filling his goblet with wine before he could make a smartass remark. Loki smiled wryly up at her as she poured her own goblet full.

“Listen to me.” He requested.

“Okay,” Charlie was suddenly eager and alert. A mythological treatise. Her favorite. She sat down on the other end of the elegant sofa, eager to hear what he’d learned.

“I’ve been tracking Ymir,” Loki explained, leaning back on the couch and crossing his feet at the ankles.

“First Frost Giant. Seems like a reasonable if tedious place to start,” Charlie commented.

“You have no idea.” Loki rolled his eyes.

“I would if I could _read_ ,” She shot at him.

“Illiterate!” He commanded, wiggling his fingers at her. He laughed when her mouth dropped open in shock.

“You didn’t!” She exclaimed. He laughed harder.

“No, I did not.”

“Ass,” She hurled at him, rolling her eyes. “Tell me more about Ymir.”

“Do your stories include tails of his grandson, Bergelmir?” Loki asked.

“Not really,” Charlie frowned. “He is only mentioned as his grandson and as the eventual father of modern day Jotun.”

“That is because the killing of Ymir was wrought by Odin and his brothers in the very beginning.” Loki instructed. “Ymir had grown too strong, hoarding the strength of the universe and extending Gunnungigap farther into Niflheim and Muspelheim. He wanted the universe for his children alone and was forcing his power to expand into the nascent realms. It could not be left to stand.”

“They butchered Ymir, did they not?” Charlie asked. “ _The earth from his flesh, from his blood the ocean, from his bones the hills, from his hair the trees, from his brains the clouds, from his skull the heavens, and from his eyebrows the middle realm in which mankind lives_.” She quoted the _Prose Edda_.

“Close enough for a Midgardian,” Loki smiled. “But did you not ever wonder if all of Ymir’s blood flowed into the ocean that day?”

“No,” Charlie frowned. “Until a week ago this was just another creation story among many that I studied. It was no more or less valid than the others. They were just stories as far as I was concerned. Made up by mankind to explain a world they didn’t understand.”

“And that is the folly of you modern Midgardians,” Loki sighed heavily. “You ignore all of your ancient knowledge and look only to the future. It will be your downfall.”

“Well, I’m a believer now,” She snorted. “Tell me about Bergelmir.”

“He was infuriated by his grandfather’s slaying. He swore a revenge so great that it would destroy the realms and bring Ymir and Gunnungigap back.” Loki explained.

“Is that the true origin of Ragnarok?” Charlie asked, fretting. How did this relate to her children?

“One of many potential ones,” Loki sighed. “Even I do not know what will trigger Ragnarok.”

“But you will lead the Muspelheimr,” Charlie insisted. “How can you not know?”

“Even for gods there are surprises, Charlie,” Loki replied, sighing heavily. “But we digress. I found reference in several of the ancient texts that Bergelmir stole three drops of Ymir’s blood before it became the water of Midgard. He captured the magic of the making of Midgard with them. I believe that Midgard is the only place where they could be used.”

“Are you saying my children are Jotun?” Charlie asked, dumbfounded.

“No.” Loki shook his head. “Older than that. I think they spring from Ymir himself.”

“But how? And after all these millennia, why go to Midgard now?” Charlie asked, perplexed.

“You Midgardians traffic in blood, do you not?” Loki asked.

“I wouldn’t say ‘traffic’. We donate blood for others for transfusions. It’s a highly regulated process, and it is not sold.” Charlie countered him.

“That isn’t what I meant,” Loki shook his head. “I mean via drugs, sharing needles.”

“How do you know of such things?” Charlie asked, nonplussed.

“It is you who are unaware of us, Charlie, not the other way around,” Loki corrected her sternly.

“Point taken,” She conceded. “That Jesus messed things up for a lot of you.”

Loki howled with laughter at her terse summation of the fall of the gods from the forefront of Midgardian life.

“It matters not,” He said when his mirth passed. “Ragnarok will come either way. We do not wait on Midgard to give us the sign. But Midgard has become fertile ground for those of the other realms who want to play quietly.”

“So you have three drops of blood and a realm with easy access. I don’t see how that connects to my children.” Charlie countered. There were too many gaps in this theory for her to accept it yet.

“Charlie,” Loki said softly, “Do you have any idea how cold it really gets in Jotunheim?”

“I think I have a pretty good idea. We were there together, remember?”

“Yes, and you were wearing an ensorcelled cloak. You didn’t feel the cold as a mortal would have.” He pointed out.

“I wasn’t for the first two days,” She countered. “And what are you getting at anyway?”

“Those first two days were summer in Jotunheim,” Loki explained carefully. “In the warmest place in the entire realm. Even the Frost Giants had to take shelter from that storm if you recall. And where I led you from there… It was to the coldest reaches of the realm. Even a Jotun would have trouble surviving where we trekked. That was my first hint that something unusual was going on. If those children had been purely Midgardian, they would have died from the cold no matter how many furs you wrapped them in.”

Charlie took in the new information solemnly, turning it over in her mind.

“So you think Bergelmir transmitted three drops of Ymir’s blood to Midgardian drug addicts who became pregnant with his twins? And I adopted two of them?” She was aghast.

“Yes, one male and one female, just as those that sprang from Ymir’s armpits at the birth of the universe.”

“Jes –, Holy H –, Sweet M –,” Charlie stuttered. “I don’t even have the curse words for this!” She shouted in frustration. “How certain are you, Loki?”

“I have tracked the blood and Bergelmir to within twenty generations. So far everything has tracked,” Loki replied. “I believe that at the end I will find Brynjolf and Thrym. That is why these texts are here.”

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 


	5. Chapter 5

“How can I help?” Charlie asked seriously. “And if you say ‘get me more wine’ I will cut your balls off.”

Loki laughed easily at her threat. In truth, he had enjoyed being a pain in her ass this day. Her responses were just so rewarding.

“The genealogies are written in a script that is similar to the Old Norse you know. I can alter your spell so you can read them. It would save me time. I’ve gotten as far as Fafnar the Sixtieth. If you can take it from there you would help me a great deal in proving the link between Bergelmir and Thrym or Brynjolf.”

“It would be my pleasure,” Charlie replied, moving closer to Loki on the long sofa so he could rework his spell. His cool hands rested on her forehead lightly as he worked his incantation. Her eyes felt both heavy and alive at the same time. She could feel her neurons rewiring to accommodate the new information he was giving her. It was a heady feeling, knowing that knowledge had just been implanted in her brain. She felt like she was in _The Matrix_. She knew genealogical kung fu.

“I love it when you do that,” She said without thinking. His hands were still cupping her face as she opened her eyes and found him leaning close.

“Most do not like it when I change their brain,” Loki murmured, his face close to hers.

“You give me knowledge. Knowledge is power,” She replied.

“Yes,” He sighed in his deep bass as he pressed his lips against hers. Charlie melted against him, inhaling the taste of him through her parted lips. He tasted of wine and an earthy flavor that was purely Loki. She drew him in deeply, her inhale bringing her breasts against his chest. Her entire body flared at the contact. Need and desire raced through her veins, thinning her blood, leaving her hot and cold at the same time. The kiss went on for a long moment until Loki pulled away.

“If you keep kissing me like that you will be able to speak Jotun too,” Loki chuckled.

“Really?” She asked, her voice laced with excitement. He smiled against her lips and stole another kiss.

“Not a chance,” He chuckled as he pulled away. “The genealogies are in that pile.”

 

It was late in the night when Charlie finished with the last scroll. Her pages of notes lay spread around her in ordered chaos. She began lining up the pages until they made a patchwork of trails across the floor. She started connecting lines and drawing circles around the most relevant parts.

“Do you have it?” Loki asked, frowning up from his latest book.

“I think so,” She replied, scratching her scalp with the end of the quill. “Brynjolf and Thrym are related through there great-grandmothers. They are third cousins twice removed. I can track Thrym back to Fafnar the Sixtieth by following the lines of succession. If Fafnar had the blood, and it was being passed down from king to king, then that would prove the link between Bergelmir and Thrym. What about you?”

“The blood is more difficult to track. I’ve been following mentions of ‘Ymir’s water’, ‘Ymir’s creation’, ‘Blood of creation’, et cetera. I think I’m close. I will need to match the mentions with the names in the genealogies you’ve assembled.”

“And what about my children?” Charlie asked. “Have you found any mentions of what will happen if Ymir’s blood is used? If they sprang from Ymir, what will they become? And why did Brynjolf want them?”

Loki’s lips pressed into a grim expression, and he turned his gaze away from her.

“Tell me, Loki,” She pressed. He sighed heavily.

“In Niflheim lies the well from which the sacred rivers spring, Hvergelmir. Its waters also run as a spring to Valhalla. I believe the Jotun were taking your children there to poison the well. By sacrificing your children with Thrym’s blade they could drain their blood into the well. Laufey’s cloak could take the souls from the knife and pour the essence of their souls into the water. They would have poisoned all of the nine realms and left Asgard weak and open to attack.”

Charlie gasped in horror.

“Is that still a viable plan?” She asked, terrified for her children’s safety. “Could the Jotun break into Asgard and steal my children away to complete their ritual?”

“I am not sure,” Loki admitted. “While Odin and I are in possession of the sacred artifacts it will be essentially impossible for the Jotun to complete the ritual. And your blood may have changed the nature of the children’s souls so they are not pure enough to poison the well. But the Jotun don’t know that. One thing is for certain, the children must remain here in Asgard to be safe, and they must learn to defend themselves.”

“Will Odin give permission do you think?” Charlie asked, her brain spinning out with plans.

“Yes,” Loki assured her. “Odin will want to protect the realm, and Freya would not let him jeopardize a mother and her children in any case. Unless the Norns get all excited again I believe they will be fine.”

“And have you learned anything about how the children’s origins might manifest themselves?”  
 She continued. Loki shrugged.

“If they had stayed on Midgard, I’m not sure anything would have manifested. They’re magic is of Midgard itself. It may have just stayed dormant. But now that they are here we will have to watch and see. It could be anything from extra strength, to magic, to wisdom. We will have to observe them closely, challenge them with tasks, and see as they get older.”

“Dominic has always been very strong for his age,” Charlie admitted. “Thea is a natural with animals of all kinds. It’s late.” She said suddenly. “I need to be with my children. We can continue this tomorrow.”

Loki could see the deep lines of concern on her face and nodded in understanding.

Charlie spent the rest of the short night cuddled with her children. She held them close in her arms and wished that she was strong enough to protect them on her own.

 

The next morning brought play time in the garden. The four older children were running and playing tag, Beth and Owen gamely trying to keep up with Thea and Dominic. The two nameless babies crawled more strongly now, pulling at grass and sticking rocks and leaves in their mouths the moment anyone turned away from them. Charlie was laughingly fishing another stone from the little boy’s gummy mouth when two shadows fell over her.

Charlie’s gaze went up and up and up until she met Thor’s shining eyes. Freki was standing beside him, larger and more imposing than any natural wolf.

“Loki sent us. I am here for Dominic, and Freki is here for Thea,” Thor announced. His voice was loud and carried across the garden.

Ah, so the testing was to begin already, Charlie surmised. She noted Mjolnir was absent from the god, but he had short wooden practice swords with him. He was holding Freki loosely by the ruff at her neck just in case the wolf decided to lunge.

“Freki!” Thea squealed and ran to the enormous wolf. Its jaws were as big as her daughter’s head and at about the same height. Charlie felt her heart squeeze. The wolf could bite Thea’s head off with a flick of its great head.

But she didn’t. Instead, Freki bowed her great head and let Thea scratch behind her ears. She snuffed in approval as Thea began to compliment the wolf with words of “Good Doggie! Happy Doggie!”

“So I think we know where this one’s powers lie,” Thor laughed as he let go of the wolf. Thea and Freki went off to play in the garden. “Odin’s wolves are untamed and only answer to him. We had no idea which child had caused such docility in the wolves at court. Now we know.”

“Oh, wow,” Charlie sighed as she watched the two play. Freki was snapping at butterflies at Thea’s insistence, trying to catch one for her. Thea giggled in delight and began snapping her mouth as if they were jaws in imitation.

“How far will her power extend?” Charlie asked Thor, rising to her feet so she could meet him on a slightly more even level.

“We will have to see,” Thor frowned thoughtfully. “But she is off to an impressive start.”

Galloping hooves interrupted Thor, and Sleipnir appeared in the garden. He trotted up to Thea and Freki. Freki growled, but Thea hushed her with a shout of “Friend!”

“Very impressive,” Thor said with a grunt. “Maybe we can see how she does with Fenrir…”

“Don’t you dare!” Charlie exclaimed.

“I but tease, Mother,” Thor laughed, his blue eyes twinkling in the sunlight. “Now where is the one who thought he could lift Mjolnir?”

Charlie scanned the garden for a moment.

“Over there trying to pull down a fruit tree,” she laughed. Dominic was indeed hanging from a stout branch and pulling with all his might.

“I hope you brought extra swords for Beth and Owen,” Charlie warned him. “They will want to play too.”

“Yes, Freya warned me and spelled the ones for the smaller children so that they could do no harm to themselves or others.”

“Freya thinks of everything,” Charlie sighed in relief.

“She is All-Mother,” Thor replied by way of explanation. He went to the children, and growled, beginning to give chase. Beth and Owen ran and squealed. Dominic, on the other hand, dove for Thor’s ankle and tried to bite him through the leather of his boot.

“He does not lack for bravery, Mother,” Thor laughed as he tried to shake the boy off his foot.

“No, he – Ow!” She yelped as a pebble went pinging off her shoulder. Charlie frowned and looked around. The baby boy was stuck in the V of the branches of a large shrub. The baby girl was pulling on his leg trying to free him. They were both studious and quiet as they had been since she had found them. But another pebble pinged in her direction and bounced off her thigh. Charlie slapped her hand against the sting and ran over to the babies. That second stone had definitely come from their vicinity.

She ran over and disentangled the boy from the shrub. She lifted him onto her lap and studied him for scrapes and bruises. The baby girl crawled over and Charlie made room for her in her lap. The girl grinned and hugged her baby brother. A sudden wave of happiness surged over Charlie. It was completely out of proportion to what was going on, and her eyes widened.

“Did that just come from you, My Loves?” Charlie asked with a sense of wonder. The sense of happiness increased along with a wave of love directed at her. “It is you!” She confirmed. “You two are amazing!” She cried and hugged them both close. At the same time her heart leapt with anxiety. Empaths? Telepaths? Did they need to be together? Could they read her mind as well? She would need Loki for these two. Maybe even Odin depending on how strong they proved to be.

“Do you have names, Sweets?” Charlie asked them soothingly, trying to see what she could learn from them. Images of the world swirled in her mind, flowers and rushing water, but the images would not settle.

“Something to do with nature then,” Charlie frowned. “But I don’t understand just what. Not to worry. We will get there when we get there.” She soothed and kissed the babies, rocking them in her arms.

“He got my toe!” Thor guffawed in amazement, causing her to look up from the babies. “And it almost stung!” Thor was triumphant as he picked up Dominic and swung him around in reward. “You will be a great warrior someday!” He roared with laughter. Charlie felt herself warming to the God of Thunder. There was no animosity in him, just love of life.

Beth and Owen were happily beating each other with the other swords causing no damage as Thor had assured. Maybe they would have no powers or theirs would take longer to manifest. Charlie was fine with it either way.

It was the most pleasant day she’d had since this entire ordeal began. Relaxing and easy. Her own wounds healed, vitality returning to her and the children. If only it could be this way forever. But she still had work to do with Loki. Today had proven that her children were indeed unusual, and that put them in danger. Plans had to be laid to protect them, and they had yet to confirm that it was indeed Ymir’s blood that ran through their veins.

 

It had become their unspoked routine: Charlie putting the kids to bed and then slipping from her suite to Loki’s via the garden and balcony. She shivered with anticipation as she remembered her first trip. So filled with anger and loss, so desperate for distraction. Driven to glorious release by Loki. Yes, she had used him furiously and well. Their new pact lurked in her mind this night.  With safety and health restored, she had to admit she was looking forward to it. She was still alone in this new world, still looking for comfort from her losses. The children took and gave back in the special way that only children could. But she was also a woman. She had needs that only another adult could fulfill. Needs that a god had promised to satisfy.

Charlie was surprised to see Loki lounging on his couch this night, dressed in a soft green tunic and brown leggings. He had a goblet of wine lolling carelessly in one hand and a decanter on the table instead of his usual stack of texts.

“What did you find, Loki?” She asked cautiously as she reached the top of the stairs. He said nothing, just handed her a goblet of deep red wine. Her amorous thoughts dissolved. She took a deep gulp of the wine and began to pace as she waited for Loki to speak.

“Odin and I have been with a Jotun named Skard all day,” Loki said on a heavy sigh. He looked tired if a god could be such a thing. Shadows under his eyes, skin paler than usual. Charlie eyed him thoughtfully.

“And who is this Skard?” She asked cautiously.

“Skard was Thrym’s personal sorcerer. Thor caught him last night when Heimdall spied him lurking at the borders of Asgard.”

Charlie shivered hard. It felt so safe here in Asgard with its bucolic gardens and gods lounging at every corner. Yet they were still being hunted.

“And what does Skard have to say?” She asked fiercely. She would not let her children come to harm.

“Nothing now. He is dead.” Loki stated bluntly. “Odin beheaded him and sent the head back to Thrym as a warning. Tyr should be returning any moment.”

“Good,” Charlie stated, taking another sip of the potent wine. “Did you manage to get anything out of him before Odin beheaded him?”

“Quite a bit,” Loki assured her, refilling his own cup. “Our work paid off. He was unable to hide Thrym’s and Brynjolf’s plot from me.” There was satisfaction in his tone. “It turns out that Skard managed to make the journey to Midgard with Ymir’s blood through a portal he made between the realms three times over three years. He dared not use it more. It was unstable as all such fabricated portals are. His mistake was in his choice of women to bear the children. They were drifters, untraceable, and he is not able to pass for a Midgardian. He lost track of the children and was dismissed from Thrym’s service as punishment.”

“And Brynjolf took up the hunt for the children?” Charlie asked.

“Yes,” Loki nodded. “Brynjolf’s family has not been in favor with Thrym for a long time. Brynjolf was going to bring back honor to his family by capturing the children and poisoning Hvergelmir. He would return victorious and claim his seat as Thrym’s heir.”

“Doesn’t Thrym have heirs of his own?” Charlie frowned.

“No. They became too ambitious, and so he ate them.” Loki stated as calmly as if he was commenting on the weather.

“Jotun,” Charlie shivered. “I hate them.”

Loki smiled.

“Laufey was my mother, and you seem to like me well enough.” He commented casually.

“As if you are a mere Jotun,” Charlie laughed reflexively. “If they were all like you, Asgard would be in serious trouble.”

“I like to think so.” Loki’s grin was wolfish. He took another long swallow of his wine.

“Come here.” He commanded, his mood changing as he set his goblet down. “I wish to collect on your debt.” He held out a pale, long fingered hand and motioned with a come hither flick. Charlie felt heat suffuse her at his order. She didn’t balk. Merely took another long swallow of wine for courage and set it on the table as she went to him. She came to stand between his knees. Her only regret was that she hadn’t worn anything as accessible as the shift this night. She dreaded the long unlacing that was to follow if Loki decided to take his time.

“How do you want me?” She asked, staring down at his limpid green eyes.

“Turn,” He said, twirling one finger. She did so, her back to him. He pulled her down between his thighs to sit on the edge of the couch. She shivered when he pulled the long spill of her hair over her left shoulder and placed his open mouth against the skin of her neck. His lips were cool as they slid down the sensitive skin, his tongue tracing the pulse he found there. She shivered hard, her nipples instantly peaking at the stimulation. She tipped her head to give him better access and sighed when he began to bite her lightly. He felt delicious. The velvet of his lips, the cool sweep of his tongue reminding her that he wasn’t entirely human as he worked his way down her neck.

His hands slid up her waist to cup her breasts, pinching the taut peaks. She arched into his touch and moaned.

“You will have me undone in no time,” She sighed, pressing her ass against his crotch. She could already feel him hardening through their clothes.

“There is no question of that,” He chuckled as a cool finger trailed down her back. She felt the cloth of her dress part soundlessly beneath his magical touch. “The only question is how many times you will come undone before I am through.”

“Arrogant,” She breathed as he moved his hands to her back and parted her dress.

“Always,” He agreed unapologetically. The light sweep of his hands from her shoulders to her ass had her shivering hard. He reached under the material to cup her breasts, skin to skin this time. His kisses moved to her spine, tracing the arch of each bone with a swirl of his tongue as he moved down. He parted the dress as he went, sliding it down to uncover her shoulders and farther until she was bare to the waist. He cupped her breasts fully this time, massaging them as he leaned over her shoulder.

“You have beautiful breasts,” He murmured, pinching the taut pink tips between two fingers. She arched and gave a soft cry. Charlie turned into him to meet his mouth for a deep kiss. She leaned her head on his shoulder and let him slowly plunder her mouth. She met the swirl of his tongue, breathing harder as he continued to tease her. His black hair fell forward and tickled her cheek. She was covered in Loki, and she wouldn’t have it any other way.

“Stand,” He said, breaking their kiss. Charlie obeyed on suddenly weak legs. He had her taut and tingling with anticipation. She had no idea what he would ask of her next. Her dress fell to the ground in a pile at her feet.

“Put your hands on the table.” She complied, bending at the waist. She pressed her thighs together as she felt herself becoming slick with her own arousal. Loki would have none of it. He nudged her feet apart with one foot until they were spread shoulder width apart. She was suddenly open to him. Bared and available for whatever he wanted. She shook with a tremor of suspense. What would he do?

She jumped a little when he grabbed her ass and parted her cheeks with his hands. His mouth landed at the base of her spine, his tongue and lips moving down her smooth skin and over one plump cheek. He bit her hard without warning, and she jumped as a spike of pleasure shot through her and set up a throbbing ache in her pussy. His mouth continued to explore her ass as he spread her cheeks farther apart. She shivered with anticipation. Would Loki dare?

Oh, Loki would dare. His tongue slid between the cheeks of her ass in a smooth glide, circling the tight pucker. Charlie yipped as her body clenched. She could feel her own wetness starting to slide down her thighs as he continued to probe and kiss her. She was whimpering now, head bowed low as he devoured her. She loosened beneath his expert ministrations until his tongue slipped just inside.

“Please,” Charlie begged on shaking legs. She was already so close, the rhythm of his tongue in her ass shooting sparks through her body. She was rocking into him, desperate for more stimulation. He chuckled and slid two long fingers into her pussy. Her first orgasm exploded across her body, and he guided her through it, his fingers and his tongue working her as she clenched and gasped and moaned.

“Very nice,” He purred from behind her as his fingers slid from inside her, and Charlie felt her face heat from her blush. She made to move, but he gave a quick slap to the meat of her thigh. “I didn’t say you could move yet.” She stiffened her legs and remained in place. This was her debt to pay. She was his to command. For now.

Charlie screamed as Loki’s mouth closed over her entire pussy in a long, sucking kiss. There was no foreplay this time, no slow work up. His tongue found her clit unerringly and he began to work her quickly.

“Loki!” She screamed into the night, thighs clenching, legs shaking as he flicked her clit faster. She was shaking hard now, barely maintaining her balance on the table. Each stroke was sending blinding flares of light behind her closed eyelids and she was so _close_. He bit her clit lightly and she let loose a torrent of incoherent screams, writhing against his mouth as her second orgasm blinded her. And still he didn’t let up, pushing her right through her second orgasm and into her third until her knees gave way and she collapsed in a heap, her head resting on the table.

“Oh, you are lovely when you come, Woman,” Loki laughed as he stroked his hands across her body. “I can’t wait to feel you come around my cock.”

“Can we do that now?” She asked, totally blissed out and ready for more. If this was what fucking a god was like, she wanted to do it forever.

“I thought you’d never ask,” He chuckled, pushing the table away so she had to balance with her hands on the floor. He pulled her hips up, and she could feel the blunt head of his cock probing her swollen folds.

“Oh, yesss…” She trailed off as he slid into her from behind in a smooth glide. He was as big as she remembered, stretching her, filling her to capacity. Her body clenched hard around him, tremors from her last orgasm and a precursor to her next.

“Now that is what you are supposed to feel like,” He sighed behind her, gripping her hips and giving a slow pump. Her overstimulated body jerked as a shot of pleasure wracked her entire body. She was already so wet, so worked up she hardly heard him. Just groaned and pushed her hips back to meet his next glorious thrust.

The rhythm he set was slow and deliberate, giving her time to equilibrate. It was delicious. The push, the pull, the stretch. And with his next thrust, Loki hit her G-spot and she cried out, her body spasming in surprised pleasure. She was riding the high now, well into subspace. Each thrust bringing a new wash of pleasure, a new wave of release. She was whimpering and mewling, sweat trailing down her body as he continued to plunder her.

But Loki wasn’t quite through with her yet. He slid between her cheeks and slipped a magically lubricated finger into her ass. Charlie yowled in surprise, her body spasming in a quick orgasm. And then there was the stretch and pleasure of both his finger and his cock plundering her as he set to with a will. He pumped faster, his finger setting a counterpoint that had her growling and writhing as wave after wave crashed around her leaving her senseless. She was merely a vessel for pleasure, for orgasm, shaking and howling and screaming with each thrust, unwilling to come down from the high he had driven her to.

Loki drove faster, harder, his whole body shaking as her pleasure drove his own. He had never made love to a mortal before this one, had laughed at Thor for his dabbling with the short-lived. But this one was different, her ferocity and cleverness captivating him. He wanted to stay buried inside her. Stay on this knife edge forever, at the verge of orgasm, balanced at the very crescendo of pleasure until Ragnarok pulled him away. But then she climaxed around him again, and he felt his control slip. He plunged headlong into the building orgasm, screaming in pleasure. His cock jerked and he hurtled over the edge, flying with his orgasm.

 

Charlie came back to reality slowly. Her breathing finally slowed, her body ceased quivering with each tremor of Loki’s cock even though he still felt delicious buried inside of her. They had tumbled at the end there and lay spooned against each other in the cool night air. She didn’t want to move, but the marble was cold against her side. A smooth fur suddenly wrapped around them both, warming her against the chill.

“You think of everything,” She murmured, snuggling deeper into the fur and Loki.

“Mmm,” Was all he said in reply. He nuzzled her temple with his lips, placing a couple of lazy kisses there.

“Stay with me,” He whispered, snuggling closer to her on the balcony.

“I can’t,” She replied regretfully. “I have to go back to the children soon.”

“That’s not what I meant,” Loki smiled against her temple. “Come back to me. Be more than a debt paid. Let me be more than a useful distraction.”

Charlie sighed and smiled at the offer. Gods, so convinced they could have it all.

“What will your wife Sigyn say?” She asked easily. Different moral codes, she reminded herself as she relaxed against him.

“Sigyn hasn’t spoken to me in millennia,” He was the one who stiffened. “She took Nari away with her, and I haven’t seen her since. Even Angrboda and I haven’t spoken in centuries.”

“You’re asking me to be your mistress?” Charlie clarified thoughtfully. There could be advantages to this arrangement. And she was beginning to fall in love with this trickster.

“Yes.”

“I come with baggage, you know,” She laughed easily. “Six bags to be exact. You must promise to teach and protect them, even from Odin, until they can take care of themselves as part of the deal.”

“I would be honored.” Loki replied truthfully.

“Are you certain?” She turned in his arms and frowned slightly. “Dominic will be a warrior. Thea can speak to animals. I believe the babies are sharing some sort of telepathy. Beth and Owen may just be normal Midgardian children.”

“Sounds like a wonderful challenge,” Loki smiled broadly, knowing he had her. But her next question surprised him.

“If my children join you, can I ride by your side and theirs at Ragnarok?” She asked seriously.

“You would ride against all the gods with me?” He asked in surprise.

“I would ride with my children. I would ride with my love.” She replied.

“Freya will be furious,” He informed her, frowning deeply. “She has plans for you.”

“There is no need to tell her now,” Charlie smiled helpfully. “You are the Trickster after all. She will not be surprised.”

“And if your children do not join me?” He asked seriously.

“Then I will ride with them if Freya allows it. But I think Thea at least will ride at Fenrir’s side. It is her destiny. I will not abandon my first born.” Charlie felt the certainty of that statement settle in her heart like stone.

“Then it shall be as you request,” Loki replied seriously, sealing the deal with a kiss.

The End

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 


End file.
